So, Be Damned, I Will
by squaredplanet
Summary: Sequel to Run. This story ends only one way. "Dear diary," you write. "We should've known better." AU/AH. A story told in 2nd person.
1. Damned If You Don't

**Chapter One:** ** _Damned If You Don't…_**

 **A/N: Welcome! This is a sequel to** ** _Run_** **. I have no idea when I can write for this, so lets just treat this as a one-shot for now. I really just needed something you guys can alert to, so I don't have to announce it later on when I get time to post regularly. There's something iffy about posting an author note as a "chapter" so I'll delete "chapter 36" on** ** _Run_** **later. I'm sure I'll get to tackle this story sooner than later. Thank you for being here, and for your patience.**

 **I love writing in this little alternate universe, so hope you do as well!**

 **Enjoy!**

POV: Katherine in 2nd person

-x-x-x-

" _Damned if I do, damned if I don't. So, be damned, I will."_

 _-Eleanor Roosevelt (completely paraphrased)_

The ringing brings you back.

It's shrill and piercing, vibrating through your ears and straight to your pounding head. The sound is accompanied by a pained groan that you quickly realize is yours.

Your eyes flutter open, blinking slow at the haze clouding them.

You breathe.

Your hand moves over shattered glass.

You're puzzled. You don't remember what brought you to this moment until, eventually, you've propped yourself up with your elbows and you see the wreckage that you're lying in.

The lights are busted, some flickering, while a tangle of wires in the corner sparks out electricity every so often.

Panic sets in when you see the litter of bodies lying across the dark outlines of a sideways bus.

You can hear the thumping of your heart in your ears, the loud thrum of blood pumping through your veins.

There's an injured cry at the other end of the bus, followed by another as you see someone sit up abruptly. The woman is holding her head as she exclaims loudly, "Help! Oh god, please—"

Without thinking, you push yourself up further, stopping abruptly at the sharp pain in your side.

You glance at it but your attention wanders to someone in your view.

" _Elena?"_ you think, foregoing the pain before you say her name out loud. Your voice catches in your throat and you try to clear it, rubbing a hand on your neck. "Elena?"

It's not just her state of unconsciousness that has you alarmed; it's that even in this dimmed light you see that one side of her head is drenched in blood. It matts her hair red and drastically contrasts her paling skin.

She looks dead.

Your heart leaps and you blink, shaking away how this scene reminds you all too well of a picture you'd much rather forget, and a voice that plagues you.

 _Elena?_

You swallow through a dry throat and tear your eyes away. Pushing yourself to sit, you clench your teeth at the movement.

"Elena, hey," you say the second time with a nudge to her shoulder—feeling that that's the safest place to do so without any sort of damage.

Her eyes shoot open and she screams. The sound reverberates through the metal walls of the bus and you flinch.

"Hey, shh, Elena! Relax, you're okay."

Her scream subsides with your coaxing and she blinks at you.

"Focus, it's Katherine. You're going to be okay."

As you say this, her face contorts as her mind catches up to the fact that she's hurt. You don't have to imagine much to know what she's feeling.

"What…" she lightly clears her throat, "What happened?"

"The bus," you say. "We were being transported, remember?"

She yelps as she tries to get up.

"Hey, whoa whoa whoa. Hold on. I think you dislocated your shoulder, and I don't know what else, but you need to take it slow."

She only whimpers and you suspect she doesn't even hear you.

You look up when you see some of the others begin to get on their feet. You squint as the few people who've gained their bearings and slipped out of their shackles, head for the front of the bus. They knock away the shattered windshield and hop out.

Other women call out to them but those who are able follow suit without looking back.

"Get back here!" Unlike the others this woman isn't begging for help with her restraints, or her broken leg. She shouts, and you realize, without clearly seeing her, that it's Grant.

She struggles to get up as she pulls out her shock stick, but someone twists it in her hand and turns the electric end onto the guard. Grant shouts before crumpling to the floor and the person who attacked her begins to leave.

It's hard to ignore the ongoing scene in front of you.

And you have nothing against Geraldine Grant—you don't know if she's passed out or dead, but, quite frankly, it's not your problem. Instead, your energy goes to trying to identify all the women getting up.

"Stay here," you tell Elena, as if she has much of choice.

You get up, the world spinning for a second, prompting you to hold onto the nearest suspended bus seat.

Your eyes scan the conscious women still on the ground, most unable to leave due to their restraints. You can't spot any familiar blonde heads, unconscious or otherwise, but the bus is long and you're only on one end.

There's the sound of wheels spinning against pavement outside and a loud _bang._

The destroyed bus shakes suddenly, making you grip the seat, but you drop to your knees anyways.

A second later, a van parks itself in front of the bus, flooding the inside with its headlights.

You squint, struggling to look in that direction.

From the van, a silhouette gets out and clears the remaining glass from the windshield. You stop yourself from calling out for help when the figure that steps inside laughs at what they see.

"Gods, this poor thing looks like a broken kaleidoscope!" he exclaims.

Your heart leaps when your mixed-up brain pieces together whose voice that belongs to. It isn't the owner of the voice, per se, that makes your blood cold; it's the others that will inevitably follow. Like clockwork, someone else steps into the bus, passing the first intruder.

"Was this entirely necessary, brother?"

"Yes! Did you see how many times this thing rolled over before it stopped? It's a miracle all these women are still running out of here. Tough little things."

"You endangered our sister."

"While I do fancy the spectacle, Elijah's right," another person joins them, strolling in like it's just another day at the park. "One roll would've sufficed."

"Help...me..." a woman at the front reaches out and your hands go to your ears as a gun shot echoes through the bus, threatening to deafen you.

"Kol!" Elijah reprimands, irritated. "We aren't to kill anyone. Able prisoners running away –"

"She didn't look very able."

Klaus snickers but Elijah continues firmly, unamused, "—are a welcome distraction for the authorities. We don't need anything pointing back to us."

"Buzzkill," Kol sighs sharply. "If my assistance isn't needed then I'll be waiting outside. Hurry then, will you?"

From their dark figures, you can see Klaus turn to his brother with an amused grin, "Surely, overturning a bus was bound to kill a few people."

"Yes. But death from an accident is a misfortune. A massacre with a gun, on the other hand, is not. No escaping prisoner would risk recapture by killing everyone in here if instead, they could run as far as they can."

Klaus jerks his head to one side as if to agree.

"And you needn't encourage him."

"What? Kol? I didn't even laugh out loud."

There's a pause where you imagine the elder of the two, scolding him with a look.

"Alright, I'm sorry," Klaus concedes, begrudgingly. "Well, shall we finish this then? Wouldn't want to come face to face with that Lockwood woman."

The only other guard that was awake is put down by his own weapon, along with three other prisoners alert enough to identify them if they end up with the authorities. Two of them had begged to be let out of their chains, each swearing up and down their mother's graves that they would not speak a word of their presence with anyone.

The two Mikaelsons don't use any guns, just blunt force and tasers.

You figure this way; the blame can be placed on escaping prisoners. Maybe someone settling a grudge, or maybe the injuries could pass as cause of death from the crash.

As they get closer, you realize they'll inevitably come face to face with you.

"Elijah," you call, pulling yourself to your feet and stepping out from behind the bus seat.

"Katherine," the man in question responds, surprise only showing in his tone of voice.

"I'll be damned," Klaus laughs, pointing a bloodied hand to you. "And here I thought you'd be the first one out of here."

"Shut up, Klaus," you tell him off, turning to the elder Mikaelson instead. "You caused this crash? What do you think you're doing?"

"Oh, do you hear that, brother?" Klaus looks to Elijah gleefully. "She's all bloodied and bruised, and yet, she believes she can make demands of us."

Elijah eyes you and then Klaus, his face neutral.

Instead of answering, his line of sight drops, scanning the number of people on the ground in the distance between you and them. His face lights up and he moves, swifter than his rigid posture suggests he can.

He bends down and examines someone.

You're suddenly anxious because you know who that is—the only person on this bus that Elijah Mikaelson would be excited to see—and you step forward.

"Niklaus, take Rebekah to the vehicle," Elijah instructs before you can make your way to them. There's too many people on the ground—in the way.

Klaus huffs but does as he's told. He wipes the hilt of the baton he'd been holding and drops it aside to unlock his sister's restraints, so he can lift the unconscious blonde up.

Somehow, you know she's okay.

"You can't take her."

Elijah steps in your way, "I beg to differ."

"You are the last people she would want to see! You really think after everything she'd want to wake up to any of you?"

"And what do you propose? Better her _family_ than another prison ceiling. Or this," he gestures around the motionless bodies littering the ground. "This chaos."

 _This chaos._ His voice echoes in your ears and the bus tilts for the briefest of moments—the slowest of moments—and rights itself before you even get the chance to adjust. There's an empty feeling in your stomach and your lips feel cold.

"We will not abandon Rebekah. Not again."

That statement angers you, but you know at the core, his intention is good.

If Rebekah was awake, she'd be yelling at him right now, but no matter what she wants, the promise of safety the Mikaelsons bring is too tempting to pass up.

"Take me with you."

Elijah tilts his head, "You ask for help from us now, yet you have, time and again, refused the same for us?"

"It's not the same and you know it."

"And nevertheless, it reaps the same reward."

He doesn't break eye contact and you realize he's absolutely, unapologetically serious.

"It's not just me," you argue. "My sister—"

"Your sister?" his eyes flicker over your shoulder and he must've seen Elena because they narrow. His way of showing shock.

"Katherine. Don't presume to garner any sympathy just because we once considered you family. _We_ were the ones who extended an olive branch. You knew we would help you from Port Hill and you refused it. Had you chosen differently, this would've ended differently."

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a gun.

"You can't leave us here, Elijah," you insist. "Please."

You don't shrink away. Despite his icy exterior now, you know he won't hurt you, and you're counting on his good nature not to simply abandon you and Elena. Deep down, you acknowledge that you've crossed more than a few lines with the Mikaelsons and there are some things even the reasonable Elijah won't forgive.

"Your uncle has proved relentless. He will no doubt think the first place you'll seek refuge is with us," he shakes his head. "Fortunately for you, he's mistaken."

"Yeah," you bite back. "Fortunately."

Shifting the gun and the keys Klaus had used, Elijah tosses both and you almost fail to catch either of them.

"First responders will be here soon," he turns around to leave. "Goodbye, Katherine."

You only glare after him because trying to follow is no use. You would never be able to catch up before they sped off and you need all the time you can get to leave before rescue comes.

"Who are those people?" Elena, who has propped herself up, asks you when you get back to her.

It's too bright for her to see anything and you're not sure what she could've heard from back here. Elena is fairly perceptive when she wants to be. She could probably piece together half the answers she asks for, even if you'd never confirm or deny her logical, often reasonable, conclusions.

You don't answer her question.

There are muffled voices outside, and car doors slam shut before the headlights turn away and the Mikaelsons speed off.

The bus is swiftly reduced once more to only the flickering lights.

"We need to go," you say, using the keys to unlock her cuffs.

Elena reaches a hand to her head, and she flinched at the contact. "Hey, don't do that," you warn, moving her hand away.

"Go? Who was that? And go where?"

"Anywhere but here. Come on."

You groan at the pain on your side as you help her to her feet.

By the time you're outside, you're practically dragging Elena.

The entire wreck made you pause for a second when you'd first stepped out. The two police cars that had been escorting the bus is either overturned against it or in the ditch on the side of the empty road. There are officers on the ground, some prisoners are scattered, all of whom are probably dead or unable to get up on their own.

You want to check if Caroline is around here somewhere. For your own sanity, you _need_ to check if she is, but there's a stifled whimper beside your ear and you turn to Elena.

Her eyes are closed, with her dislocated arm tucked across her torso, gripping her blue jumpsuit.

She doesn't say anything; just leans onto you like she's confident that you know what you're doing. You realize, not for the first time, that she trusts you.

You swallow at the thought.

She shouldn't.

Glancing around only once more for your friend, you lead the way towards the woods. When someone comes, it'll be harder for them to find you in there.

Rescue shouldn't be far behind, and if not, someone bound to pass by will report the incident.

" _Caroline has probably already left,_ " you tell yourself because the alternative—your best friend being dead—is much worse than the thought of her abandoning the crash the first chance she got.

Like her, you aren't going to sit around and wait for the authorities to come.

You'd planned to escape anyhow, hadn't you?

And you know, like no other, that this window of opportunity is small.

You'll be damned if you don't take it.


	2. Like Your Life Depends On It

**Chapter Two: _Like Your Life Depends On It_**

 **A/N: Alright alright! The intent was to come back to this once I wrote more than at least ONE chapter (to help with the updating and all) but I'm busy and that'll take a century. Haven't written the epilogue/my muse for this just yet but the ending is set in stone and man oh man are you guys in for a ride! Since they aren't confined in one setting, let's just say there's much more world building here. I can't wait to get to all the important bits! Now, onward!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Katherine**

-x-x-x-

 _"Follow me and run like your life depends on it. Because it does."_

 _-James Dashner_

It looks like you made it to a road.

As delirious as you feel right now, you're fairly sure your walk hadn't gone in a U-shape. There's nothing visible down either ends of the path, and hopefully it's not the same road as the one the Port Hill transport had been taking.

"Elena," you call.

She answers with a stifled groan.

You glance at her, leaning the barely conscious girl at the base of a tree. You're far enough from this road that if anyone appears on it, they would never immediately spot you.

Just as you think it, the bright lights of a car zooms by; proving your estimate when it doesn't even bother to slow down.

You're relieved but also a bit disappointed.

"Hey," you cup your counterpart's cheek, patting it lightly.

Her lashes flutter but she doesn't make eye contact.

You lick your lips, feeling that concern you usually reserve for yourself creep up. It's different from a simple ask of whether she's okay. On the way here, you two had been holding conversation—not just for her sake, of course—but it's slowly dwindled down to muttered responses from the younger girl.

You hurt all over. You had no time to check yourself, so you have no idea what injuries that crash had given you, if at all, but Elena's are bad. That concussion takes the cake and if you don't find a way to get help, you can only think of the worst outcome.

You glance around again. There's no way you're going to let this be your end. Not after surviving prison, Sage, Isobel, and a bus crash of epic proportions.

"Hey, Elena."

You pat her cheek a little firmer and she blinks at you.

"Katherine," she mumbles. You're close enough to hear. "I don't feel so good."

You nod. She's already mentioned this but there's nothing you can do. Not out here.

She mutters something else but you're sure she isn't talking to you.

There's a bright light from your peripheral and you turn your head a bit too quickly as another car passes by, and briefly illuminates something across the street.

Taking a moment to shut your eyes, you see what caught your attention.

Even in this moonlight, you can spot a dirt path perpendicular to the road you're on.

You squint, glancing around the area. There's an owl _hooting_ in the distance, a few crickets sounding, and all the noises you'd expect from the woods in the middle of the night. It makes your skin crawl.

Elena relaxes into one of the protruding roots of the tree and you realize that you have no idea what State you're in—if you even crossed borders—and the chances of another vehicle passing by is slim to none.

There's no way that you're planning on staying on the main road, lest the police run into you, but there is a chance that that unpaved road leads to somewhere useful.

A house. Or a few cabins. Anything is better than aimlessly walking around in circles between dark, ominous trees.

You move to stand but is tugged back by Elena's sudden death grip on your arm.

"W-Where are you going?" she asks.

You place a hand over hers, not sure if you can pull away from her spontaneously tight hold.

"There's a path on the other side of the highway. I'm going to check it out."

"By your—? No..."

She trails off, but you understand.

"Yes, by myself. I'll be quick."

"Katherine."

"Elena, you can barely stand," you state. The police should find the crash quickly, if they haven't already. Once they realize a good portion of their prisoners have made a run for it, they'll be scouring the forest faster than you'll be limping away. You need to find a vehicle. Something faster than your legs. "I'm just checking the area. I'll be right back."

"Wait. No," she shakes her head, "Just don't come ba—"

You scoff, cutting her off. "Fine. You're right. There's no point in going and coming back. We'll waste less time if we leave together."

She breathes your name in protest between a groan as you pull her up again.

"Elena, shut up," you admonish, eyeing the empty road. You'd say she should expect more from you than to just abandon her, but in all honesty, doing so would make escaping so much easier. You feel like you've been wandering in the dark for forever now and the limping around doesn't help. You expect the inevitable question of _why_ you don't but she's too out of it to ask. "Save your energy. And maybe use it to help me walk. You're really cramping my shoulder and it's your turn to be the crutch."

It's not even a question of _if_ she'll ask, because Elena always does. You'll cross that bridge when you get to it, or better yet, find a way to permanently close off that bridge and burn it down.

Some stones are better left unturned.

Elena clenches her teeth as you pull her up the slope to the paved road to cross it. The other side is leveled so you don't have to worry about going down another incline.

She takes your advice on not speaking.

You glance at her once more to make sure she's still conscious, before looking to the dirt road you'd been eyeing.

It's dark. Darker than the open highway, despite it's lack of streetlights.

You huff.

The possibility of some sort of safe haven prompts you forward.

-x-x-x-

 _"Welcome to Trentlake Conservation."_

You only make the outlines of big titular letters on the entrance arch but you're sure that's what it reads.

Now, you're often labelled as a logical person. You don't like placing bets, and your plans are as precise and definite as facts. You aren't the type of person to place any faith in coincidences, but that path somehow led to the entrance of a regional camp area, and that's not something you can claim you willed into existence.

Despite the deteriorating " _Closed. No Trespassing,"_ sign, the rusted chain linked gates are wide open.

There are a few dimmed lights on the sides of the two small registration buildings you can see.

"Ominous…" Elena mumbles. Why would condemned property have lights turned on?

"No kidding."

Your eyes sweep across the area. The trek here had been a journey. You know this because you can feel the heat from the exertion; though, its not nearly as prominent as the cold crawl up your arm. If you had any other option, you wouldn't step foot into this place. Maybe it's the lights that indicate that someone is in but if you had any other choice, you're certain you'd turn back.

"We're going in there, aren't we?" Elena asks, also getting the creeps.

"If you know anything else around here, we won't have to."

You imagine Elena would've shaken her head if the action didn't hurt. You take her closed eyes as a clear "no."

Before going through the gates, you try to spot something to move towards. The door to the building? Some sort of storage box? A parked car? Unwelcoming squatters?

"There. I think…" Elena points.

On the far end, half covered by a small shed, is the tail end of an old rusted sedan.

You feel relief.

There's probably a key in it. Or at the very least, inside one of the two buildings.

"Shit," you mutter when you cross the lot, round the corner of the nearest building, and stand next to the car.

It's missing wheels.

"That's disappointing."

"Stay right where you are!"

You gasp. The startling voice comes from behind you.

"Turn around slowly," the voice demands. Cops already?

Why does it sound so familiar?

"Okay, wait," you hold up your free hand to show that you don't have anything dangerous. "Please. We're just passing by."

When you turn around, your hand drops and your brows furrow. It's a blonde. She's disheveled, but she holds a knife out in front of her with a firm grip. You've been in this situation before, but despite the gun you'd stuffed in your coveralls—given that you're shouldering another person—she has the advantage.

"Sierra," you name, just as someone else does.

"Sierra." There's someone behind said woman, holding the door of small shelter open. You'd be more alarmed if they weren't also wearing prisoner attire. "It's Katherine."

"I know," the blonde hisses, refusing to take her eyes off you

"What she's saying is: put that down before you hurt yourself," you say. Your tone is purposely condescending.

"Why don't I put you down?"

You step back with your hand already feeling the cold grip of the gun.

"Stop!" the second woman has moved up and she pulls Sierra away. "You're really going to commit murder just for kicks? What's the point?"

"The point? For all the times she's humiliated me in front of the entire block," her fingers tighten on the hilt. "Besides, I going to need the money."

"Unless you intend to go back, Block D is gone. And even if this is about the bounty on her head, do you really think the Pierces will give you a single penny if Katherine meets her demise in the middle of the woods?"

You raise a brow. As absurd as that sounds, it makes sense, and Sierra reluctantly agrees.

Her frown is deep, but she turns and walks into the building. The door shuts behind her, automatically.

You feel Elena glance at you with confusion.

Unlike her, you know this helpful woman personally. "I'd say thank you but…"

"You could've handled that on your own?" the woman's eyes are hard. "We all know how you handle situations."

You return the glare before breaking into a grin and holding out your free arm.

"I'm glad you aren't one of the casualties, Pearl."

"Hmm. You know I always collect my debts. You still owe me."

You shake your head, "Of course."

"Well, I'm glad you aren't dead either," she gives you a half hug, but then looking to Elena. "Is she okay?"

"I'm good."

"She really isn't," you correct. Pearl glances around before nodding behind her.

"Come on, lets get inside."

"I don't think it's a good idea to stay here," you say. You don't want to stay in one place too long. It isn't safe. And it doesn't help that it seems like it's the only place for miles. There's no doubt that this will be the first stop on the sheriff's list.

"We're working on a way out of here. Just bring her inside. Set her down," she offers. "Let me take a look."

You want to protest, but one look beside you and you know you have to take at least a second to rest.

"Alright," you nod, walking into the cabin as Pearl holds the door open. When you get inside you see Sierra kneeling beside another prisoner. She's unconscious.

The space is small and mostly empty. Pearl directs you to the opposite side as Sierra gets up to leave.

"I'm going to check on Lin," she tells the woman beside you. Pearl nods as she helps Elena sit on the floor.

Pearl Iwakura is a doctor. Granted, a Pharmacist but a doctor all the same. All in all, she had used that to her advantage in Port Hill, and against Isobel in particular.

You've learned how good Pearl is at her job, and just how adaptive the woman is, which is a combination that helped you decide to be her friend.

Pearl crouches in front of Elena, maneuvering her head so she can see.

"How are you feeling?" she begins, suggesting, "Any nausea? Dizziness? Ringing in your ears?"

You blink a few times and sigh, mentally answering her questions regarding yourself.

You shift on your feet.

"Yeah," is Elena's answer.

"Yeah? I'm going to need specifics, Elena. Yes, to which ones?"

"All… of the above?"

Pearl asks her a few more basic first-aid questions you don't listen to. Your attention is on your surroundings.

The unconscious woman, you recognize, was one of Sierra's neighbors in Port Hill. You don't linger on her but, like Elena, she's bleeding from her head.

There's a punctured corkboard by the door, a table, and an overturned chair on the floor. There's an open cash register near one of the mud-caked service windows, and there's shreds of paper scattered everywhere.

Of all the things you could find in the middle of a forest, an abandoned camp conservation shouldn't be as odd a finding as it feels. Like a sore thumb, this entire area is a sure stop for the cops.

You need to get out of here.

"What's the verdict, doc?" you nod to Pearl.

"Not good. A sure concussion, a bruised shoulder, and I'd say a fractured rib," the older woman concludes by pressing the tips of her fingers to Elena's side. The girl doesn't bother muffling her disgruntled cry. "If we were anywhere else but a forest, I'd say she'll be fine but…"

"We're in the middle of a forest?" you finish.

"Yeah."

She nods and turns to you; double taking when you lean your temple onto the cold brick wall and sigh.

"Are you okay?"

You make a face. Somehow, idly standing around for a moment is wearying.

You breathe through parted lips.

You have a pretty good idea why; the adrenaline you'd been riding on, the only thing physically moving you forward, is fading. When Sage plunged that knife into your torso, she'd only had time to do it once, but she had twisted it. Your stitches had been messy, Penny ripping them open hadn't helped, and now you were bleeding.

The dull soreness you'd been feeling since you woke up is gradually turning into jagged aches.

"Shit," you hiss.

Pearl is on her feet, hands gripping your arm and shoulder, ready to assess the damage. She goes straight to the stab wound, knowing everything else isn't as important. She unzips your jumpsuit and pulls back the flap of the left side to see.

Your muffled whimper turns into a shaky groan as she pulls at the medical tape that's somehow still glued to your skin.

"Hey, sit," she instructs but you pull from her grasp. Sit? Crouching like that would only make things worst. And that's not even mentioning the urgency to leave this metaphorical lighthouse.

It's just about a miracle more prisoners hadn't stumbled onto this place.

"We need to leave," you repeat.

"Sierra and Lin are working on that."

"Actually…"

You glance up as Sierra returns with another prisoner and the rusted door creaks close.

"The rust bucket won't start. Everyone else took the working cars."

So, more prisoners _had_ come this way.

The other woman, Lin, looks around. Her gaze travels from the unconscious woman on your far right, to Elena, and then to you.

She frowns.

"This wasn't what we agreed on."

"What?" Pearl turns around.

You blink a few times, attempting to shake away the fatigue that's creeping up.

"When everyone left I had to stay because I was helping you out. No one wanted the liability of one injured person, but now there's three?"

"No one forced you to stay," Sierra recounts, taking offence for her unconscious friend.

"And you weren't the only one left behind," Pearl adds.

"Well, the car isn't starting, and the other office hut we broke into is empty. No offence but I'm not about to wait for any of you."

Lin shakes her head with one foot already out the door.

The door shuts behind her.

Pearl huffs. "For the record, no one agreed on anything."

She jokes but an extra pair of hands would go a long way to solving this dilemma.

"Is there only one car?" you ask.

"A van," Pearl answers and questions Sierra, "You couldn't get it to work?"

The blonde nods, "We couldn't find the key. It's a crap vehicle. I doubt it would start even if we did."

"Did you…hot wire it?" Elena suggests suddenly.

"What?"

"Did you try hot wiring it?" she repeats.

"Oh yeah, because I definitely didn't think of that. No, dipshit. Not everyone knows how to do that. And I'm not about die in an accidental car fire right after surviving a crash."

"Okay," Elena places a hand on the good side of her head. "I know how."

Your brows furrow slightly. Why doesn't that surprise you?

"If you just take me to the car…"

"That's not a good idea."

Everyone turns to you.

You elaborate, "You can't even walk straight."

Elena nods softly. "Are you volunteering?"

"No, I don't even know how…" you trail off. Honestly, up until your murder conviction the only real crime you could ever be tried for was petty theft. _Could_ , because you've never been caught for it.

"Then we don't really have much of a choice. I can… go with Sierra. Tell her what to do."

"Now wait just a minute. I didn't agree to this," the eldest woman interjects. "You can't just volunteer people to do shit."

"Do you, or do you not want to get the hell out of here?" Pearl speaks up.

She's the only other conscious person who would be able to follow directions from Elena. She's also the only person with some sort of medical training, and she isn't about to let you go without checking up on your injuries.

And there's no way in hell you're going to trust Sierra to do the latter.

She would literally rather stab you.

As if reading your mind, the blonde woman glares at you like you're the one forcing her to help out.

Annoyed, you roll your eyes, so she can see how stupid you know she is.


	3. For This Relief

**Chapter Three: For This Relief**

 **A/N: So, here it is. I'm surprised and so very thankful for how many of you have actually gone ahead and clicked on this for the past 2 chapters! I promise the next one won't take nearly as long.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

 _"For this relief, much thanks."_

 _-William Shakespeare_

Your eyes open in a haze.

Or do they?

You recognize that you're lying down, and its dark, but even then, you can make the outlines of two people from this angle.

" _Am I dreaming?"_ you think.

Your view shakes as the vehicle that you're in moves over graveled road. Graveled road?

"No, we can't."

"None of us have much of a choice, Katherine. Scratch that, none of us _have_ a choice right now."

There's a hard jolt.

Your head hurts.

You groan.

"Goddammit, Sierra!"

That's Katherine's voice.

"Will you two shut up?" Sierra.

"Well then, slow the fuck—"

There's a bigger jerk that throws you forward.

"— _down! Jeremy!"_

 _It's brighter now._

 _Your hand is on the dashboard and you turn, glaring daggers at your brother._

 _He grips the steering wheel in front of him, and his face shows his complete panic. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Ah, geez!"_

 _If you weren't about to murder him for not listening, you'd probably be laughing right now._

" _Are you trying to kill us?" you demand. "I'm pretty sure you're trying to kill us."_

" _I'm not, I swear."_

 _You glance back, making sure there aren't any cars just as Mrs. Wismett rounds the front of your Ford._

" _Jeremy Gilbert is that you?"_

 _You smack his arm when he doesn't immediately respond._

" _Mrs. Wis, hey," he chuckles nervously. "I didn't see you there."_

" _Mm," you cringe at his poor choice of words._

" _Clearly. You all but ran me over! What do you have to say for yourself, young man?"_

" _I'm so sorry, Mrs. Wismett. I'll pay closer attention next time."_

" _Next time? I sure hope there will not be 'next time.' It doesn't seem to me that you're meant to be behind the wheel," the elder lady says; stating rather than suggesting._

 _Jeremy sucks at these kinds of confrontations. You almost want to look away._ _You'd cut in but everyone knows Mrs. Hillary Wismett. Doing that would only make things worst._

" _How old are you, Mr. Gilbert? Do you even have your license? Does he?"_

 _She's tilted her chin down, staring dark weathered eyes in your direction._

" _Of course, Mrs. Wismett," you lie rather unconvincingly. He's not even 16 yet. And if your brother sucks at these confrontations you're no better at lying. "We're just practicing."_

 _She nods,_ _suspicious_ _. "Well, I hope you don't mind if I contact your parents then. Informing them of just how much practice your brother obviously still needs."_

 _It's no secret that the old lady is the eyes and ears of Mystic Falls._

 _You force out a chuckle as the old lady continues her way, muttering about hooligans and being careful. Jeremy sighs off his relief._

 _The two of you make eye contact._

 _Another apology from him and your repeated warning is made in silence._

 _And then you both snort from holding back laughter._

" _God. You literally almost ran her over."_

" _Is it bad that I'd only feel half as bad compared to anyone else?"_

" _Yes!" You smack his arm again._

" _I was kidding!"_

" _Sure you are—"_

You groan as your eyes flutter open.

"Easy," a familiar voice speaks, and you focus. Your dream—no, your memory dissipates as you wake.

"Katherine?"

"Hey there, princess."

You see a white ceiling (not a van ceiling like you last remembered) before you even see her.

Katherine sits on a chair with a blanket across her shoulders and a half-hearted grin on her lips.

You begin to register how much you're hurting—but then you almost jump up in panic when you see that the wall behind her, and all around you, is as stark white as the ceiling.

 _A hospital!_

"Whoa, whoa," Katherine places a hand on your leg. "What did I say? Easy. Don't even think about getting up."

"Did we get... caught?" you ask, even though your throat feels dry. You try to clear your throat.

Katherine looks like she wants to chuckle when she replies, "I don't think I'd be here if we were."

Relief overwhelms your need to comment on her non-answer.

"Where—where are we?"

Katherine gets up and offers you water through a straw. You're reminded just how much a (previously) dislocated shoulder hurts when you try to lean onto it.

"Easy," Katherine repeats.

It's her third time, and maybe it's you having just woken up, but you have the urge to throttle her because you know exactly what she's going to say.

"You dislocated your shoulder, remember? And ah," she catches your hand mid-reach, "Don't touch your head. You're going to mess up your bandages."

"—es? As in more than one?"

"Yeah, you banged up your head pretty badly in the crash."

You only take note that Katherine is in a sweater and a pair of joggers after you've quenched your thirst. You look down to see that you're still in the blue Port Hill attire you've grown used to seeing daily.

Albeit, a dirty mud-caked version.

"What are you wearing?" you ask, fully aware that she has yet to answer your other question. It's weird seeing her in something other than the blue jumpsuit with "Port Hill" lettered onto its fabric.

"A change of clothes. When you can, you'll wash up and change into something more… attractive."

"Heh, as if you look any better."

You mean that by how much paler she looks than normal, but she looks at you as if to say, _"We're literally identical."_

You shake your head, "Besides, I don't think...I wanna stand out."

"Nothing stands out better than prison-wear."

Well. You can't argue with that.

"So," you repeat, "where are we?"

"Apparently, Pearl knows a few people willing to host some fugitives."

 _Willing to host some fugitives...?_ Your mind ruminates on that thought. "How long has it been?"

The last thing you remember, you'd been sat in the back of the van with Katherine and Sierra's unconscious friend, April.

Katherine's grin turns lopsided.

"What, where, how? You're really going through the entire spectrum of questions, aren't you?"

You wanna shake your head again but it hurts.

Surprisingly, she gives you an answer, "About three days."

" _Three_?" your voice doesn't convey the extent of your disbelief.

She nods.

You have so many questions.

How had you gone unconscious for that long? What happened after everyone got on the van? How did Pearl's friend manage to find you all? Or did all of you drop at their door step? What kind of person was this friend, because who in their right mind would willingly take in fugitives? Fugitives they didn't even know personally. Why does Katherine seem perfectly fine? How does she even know this place is safe?

Your head hurts just _thinking_ , let alone trying to verbalize all this, so you muster out a simple"How?"

Katherine tilts her head, more exhausted than anything, "We headed straight here and got to this place the morning after the crash. Sierra's friend, or you, would probably be dead otherwise."

The thought sends a chill up your spine. It's probably true, but she's so curt about it.

"Good thing then." You say this, and you don't mean to, but it almost sounds like a question.

She only gives you a tight-lipped smile.

And its not that you're disappointed or upset but, well… you don't actually know what response you expected.

You blink, pushing away the ambivalent feeling.

"So," you realize how repetitive this question is before it even leaves your mouth. At least, in terms of you asking Katherine. How many times had you uttered this in the past 5 months? "What's the plan?"

"The plan is to stay here till we're all healed up enough to be walking around."

"We? But... you're okay?"

"Better than you."

You examine her appearance, not at all seeing any superficial injuries. Your eyes drop to her torso where - she had played it off but where - she had been bleeding in the dash to get as far away from the crash as possible.

You don't mention it, instead thinking on the overall plan.

The thought of staying cooped up in one place doesn't bring you any joy. Not when you've been forced to do just that for the past half a year in Port Hill.

"No. I mean," you steer back to your original concern as you shift more onto you right side to alleviate pressure from your left shoulder. "I meant after that."

"I know."

Katherine pauses, refusing to answer right away.

You wait.

"Honestly?" she's pushed the chair closer to the side of your bed and she sits. "I have a few scores to settle. A name to clear, for starters."

Like you, Katherine has also asserted her innocence. Her grandfather had been murdered, just like Jeremy had been, but neither of you are murderers.

"And so, do you."

"That's for sure," you mutter the first part more to yourself. You're innocent but unlike her, you have no idea how you'd even go about proving that. Which is why you've been more focused on finding your birth parents.

At least for that, you have some semblance of a lead. "So, what're we gonna do?"

Katherine blinks, shaking her head. "Elena."

"Huh?" you backtrack on what she said. On the wording she used. "Wait, what're you saying?"

"I'm saying, we go our own ways."

This makes you bolt up, but Katherine is quick.

"Hey," her hand, as gentle as it is, prevents you from moving too much. "I don't want to stay with Sierra or April. They're their own mess. And Pearl has an agenda she wants to fulfill. I'm sure her friends won't let us stay here for too long, and I have to deal with my family for—"

You tune out her words as your shock turns to confusion.

"Why are you explaining yourself?" you blurt out, interrupting her.

You can count on one hand the number of times Katherine has rambled off an explanation. No—scratch that; it's more like as long as you've known her, she's _never_ rambled. At least not to you.

"You asked why we should part ways."

"You're rambling."

"We've gotten to know each other a little. Which is great. But there are some things I need to investigate by myself, and I want you to know that there's a good reason why we should go our separate ways. At least for now."

Part of you wonders if you're being overconfident when you think that sounds like a load of bull—because it does.

" _That doesn't make sense_ ," is what you want to say. You opt for a bait instead. "You actually care about me?"

 _About what I think?_

You, theoretically, can see her asking you where you'd get this idea, but you both know that when you'd first met, your counterpart never cared enough to explain anything. Ignoring you for basically the first month or so is proof of that.

"Shut up, Elena. You know I do."

Why would she drag you across a whole damn forest if she didn't?

"Then why would we separate?"

Katherine's gaze drifts and she licks her lips. She doesn't have a response, so you continue, suddenly feeling well enough to get your point across.

"We still have to find Ilia Flemming, and whoever the hell our father is. We made a deal, didn't we? How are you going to look into the Gilbert property without me?"

She looks to you, "I never said we wouldn't meet back up after."

Right. But how long would either of you take to clear your names? Months? Years? It might be selfish, but you don't want to separate. You can't bear the thought of going out into the world as a fugitive, running for your life, _alone_.

"What makes you think I can't help you? I don't even know where to start with proving that I didn't kill my brother. If that's even possible."

Katherine sighs.

"Let me help you," you insist.

She doesn't say anything. Your head hurts.

You watch for a verbal response, but the door opens instead. Pearl comes in.

You almost shout at the timing.

"Elena," her greeting is accompanied by a warm smile, but you have a feeling she didn't come here for you.

You look to Katherine, hoping for some assurance. An answer. She turns away again.

"How are you feeling?" Pearl asks.

You wonder if you're being too assertive about sticking together. You think this but, despite her warnings of your injuries, that thought only makes you want to get up and object.

You don't.

"We're not in the woods anymore," you say. "I can't complain."

"We're all just lucky my friend opened his doors for us."

"I heard. Thank you, by the way."

You'd be dead if you two had never found that campsite, or any of the others. The elder woman nods in response.

"Did you need something, Pearl?" Katherine inquires, getting to her feet. She could truly be concerned about Pearl showing up, but you know this tactic. Despite her confidence and bravado when cornered, Katherine has the tendency to run the other way if ever given the chance.

She's pulled it enough times on you that you recognize it.

"Wait," you reach out.

"I'll be right back," she dismisses, squeezing your leg.

"Katherine."

She's out the door before Pearl even waves her own goodbye to you.

"I have a few things to take care of, but I'll be back to check up on you, okay?" Pearl makes you promise not to move around too much unless there's someone else in the room before she leaves.

You can only nod in response, feeling more than a little dejected.


	4. You Are Lost

**Chapter Four: _You Are Lost_**

 **A/N: Alright, so I bought a new keyboard. Somehow, that's inspiring. SO here.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

 _"You are free, and that is why you are lost."_

 _-Franz Kafka_

Katherine comes back like she said she would.

The only problem is, she talks like she hadn't ran out on you earlier in the day. Like your last conversation hadn't been leading up to an argument of some kind.

In true Elena-esque fashion, you let it go. At least for now.

You wonder if she expected that you'd do as much. (Or as little).

You'll bring it up again. It's bound to come back. That and the fact that she's slightly limping are your only consolations. After being in the same room for more than just a couple minutes, you realize that she isn't as "perfectly fine" as you'd initially thought. But that just means that she won't— _can't_ just run off and leave you.

(When did you even start hating the thought of being left behind?)

Is it sad that that might be the only thing stopping her? Maybe, but you don't believe Katherine means any ill intent. In fact, you understand that she wants her problem resolved, her name cleared, and her freedom returned. That's something you feel yourself. But there's no reason you can't go with her. Not any good ones anyways.

When Katherine goes off once more, it feels like hours before Pearl shows up.

"Hey," you greet first. You don't know her all that well but you're eager for company.

She comes in with a first-aid kit in hand and a kind smile. You almost wonder aloud what she could've done to get herself into Port Hill.

By this time, you'd sat up on your bed earlier with a little help from Katherine, and you'd stayed that way since. Laying in one spot is cramping.

"How are you feeling?"

You shrug a shoulder, knowing she's just asking to ask. It's not like you'd gotten better in the past hour or so.

"I'm sure Katherine's told you," she begins, and you tilt your head. "I'm not actually a doctor."

"Oh yeah," you say. She had mentioned it when you asked about Pearl. "A pharmacist."

The elder woman nods as she opens the box and rummages through it, "My grandparents have once said our ancestors were one of the first people to open an apothecary in North America. Though, I don't think I quite believe it."

You listen. It's interesting, but you're mentally too preoccupied to comment.

"Did Katherine also mention what your injuries are? Or at least, what I'm sure they are."

"Um, yeah," you nod. A concussion, a bruised shoulder, and possibly a fractured rib. The latter has you groaning cause it's probably fractured in the same place from months ago. When you'd first encountered Penny and her tendency to run her mouth.

"Well, we'll start with your head. It's been awhile. I'm sure you don't need all that." She gestures to her own head and you figure, she's talking about the bandages.

You follow her lead, letting her take off the wrap and maneuvering your chin this way and that for inspection.

Without the bandages your head feels colder, but also lighter—something you prefer.

"Can I ask you something?" you say as she dabs rubbing alcohol near your hairline at your right temple. You wince.

"She said you would say that." The 30-something woman chuckles a little. "Sure, shoot."

"Why are you helping us?"

Pearl pauses, and you look up at her.

"Well," she resumes. "Katherine helped me out of a bind once."

 _Once? To garner this kind of assistance?_

"Must have been a pretty big bind then." What with her risking another friend going to jail for harboring criminal escapees.

"It was," Pearl easily admits.

"Would I be overstepping if I ask for an explanation?"

"Not at all. I have a daughter. After I went away, she was left as a ward of the state, and left with some very bad people. She needed funds to start somewhere new. Katherine provided it. She's never asked for anything in return."

Her words might sound enthralled, but Pearl is grounded. She knows she doesn't owe Katherine an eternal debt, but she does owe her something.

Though, even if Pearl had never given anything tangible, Katherine had gained something from her; her goodwill.

"I guess she was saving her favour for a rainy day," Pearl chuckles. "Funny enough, I always jest that she's the one who owes me."

You vaguely remember the words they exchanged once you and Katherine had stumbled onto the trio at that abandoned conservation.

"How old is your daughter, Pearl?" you ask, curiously.

"Anna is turning seventeen at the end of the month."

Just a year younger than Jeremy.

 _They could've been friends._

"Did you speak to her often?"

"When we could."

Pearl continues her check up while you ask the usual questions that peak your interest when talking to someone new. You conclude that Pearl is sincere, and whatever she was in Port Hill for isn't worth asking about.

You breathe in as she checks your shoulder and helps you figure out the best way to put on a sling without anyone's help.

You realize, as you continue your talk, that this little Q and A reminds you of Bonnie. You wonder where your technologically savvy friend is and hope she's in a better situation than you. You miss her.

"Alright," Pearl steps back, cleaning up all the items she used. "I'm going to go. If you want, you can walk around. Just don't do it by yourself. I'll tell Katherine to come around."

"Okay," you agree as she leaves.

Katherine had mentioned Pearl having her own plans, and the way she speaks about her daughter, Anna, you don't need to ask to assume that it probably involves her.

You want to get up and move around but you end up falling asleep instead.

-x-x-x-

When you wake up you're tired, but there's no way you'll fall asleep again even if you try.

You refrain from touching the left side of your head and you sit, dangling your feet over the side of the bed.

You sigh, cradling your left arm by the elbow.

The light in your room is on, but the fact that its a small space makes you feel gradually claustrophobic. How long have you been in here?

The door opens and Katherine steps in with a large brown paper bag in her hand.

"Good, you're awake."

You smell it before you even notice the logo on the side of the bag.

Your stomach grumbles.

"Oh my god, is that what I think it is?"

The logo makes it obvious and your stomach flips with joy.

Katherine holds in a laugh as she places a tray on your bed and drops the bag onto it. She sits, tucking one shoe clad foot under her knee.

"Did you know that if you'd built enough privilege points in Port Hill, that you can have the option of joining a barbecue with all the other well-mannered inmates from your block?"

Did you know? All you ever did at that place was "misbehave" or get in trouble. Even if you had nothing to do with any of it. The fact that causing an unintentional riot had been the first thing you did when you set foot in there probably didn't help that momentum.

Katherine's question is rhetoric and she continues, "Because I could never join that thing, I can't remember the last time I ate a goddamn burger."

Your mouth waters at the thought.

You love food, and after the abomination that was the Port Hill cafeteria food, you're willing to eat anything. And this? This is a treat.

"I didn't know what you liked on it so you get the same thing I usually do."

"I'm not complaining."

You'd open the bag yourself, but you wait for her to distribute your portion.

You hurt all over, but the second you bite into the mouth-watering combination of bread, lettuce, and beef, the thought is thrown to the back of your mind. It's a bit awkward with one hand but you make do.

You pause, pulling the burger away but continuing to chew. "That's not lettuce."

"Nope," Katherine nods, having dug in as well, "that's spinach."

You make a face, but take another bite. You're in no position to complain and actually, "It's not that bad."

She's also laid out some fries and bottled drinks and… hold on.

"Did you go out to buy this?"

Katherine shakes her head, "I don't know this area well enough. And besides, Burger Bite wouldn't be my first choice."

 _Wouldn't?_ What's wrong with Burger Bite? They're actually one of your favourites.

You don't ask that though, instead you voice, "This area. Where are we anyways?"

You meant to ask earlier but you never got the chance.

Katherine sips her drink before answering, "We're still in Virginia. Near a small town called Farmville. Ever heard of it?"

"Uh," you wrack your brain. With your memory, even if you'd only come across it once, you should remember it. "Like the farming simulation game?"

She chuckles again. "I guess."

"Then not really," you nod. That wasn't the important part. "But I meant specifically. Where are we?"

There aren't any windows in your small room so you cant even tell what time of day it is. Is it even day?

"Pearl's friend, Jeremy."

Your attention perks up at the mention of your brothers name, but Katherine is only referring to your welcoming host.

"He owns the junk yard on the edge of town. We're in the basement of his warehouse."

"A warehouse basement? This nice?" It's no five-star hotel but the place is cleaner than any warehouse you've ever seen.

"Yes," Katherine chews on a fry in thought. You'd already finished your half of the meal, even with only one functional hand. "There's a few others down here. I think harbouring individuals running from something is just regular business for him."

"We have to pay him?" You currently have nothing to your name.

"No, Pearl assured me that she'd take care of it."

You would nod but your headache is back.

Placing your hand over your eyes, you resist the urge to touch your bandage-free head.

"Huh," Katherine observes. "Food really does make you feel better. At least for a little while."

A good distraction, sure, but you have to wonder how Katherine isn't at least half as bad as you with the way she looks. "How are you fine?"

The bed shifts when she gets up and stands in front of you. "Your head?"

You meet her eye, "Yeah."

She nods, placing her food down and moving the tray onto the side table. She dusts off her hands and reaches into her pocket.

"This should help."

"Is that—?" the fentanyl she'd made you steal from the prison infirmary? She nods again.

You take the pill and swallow it with a gulp of her iced tea.

"Give it a minute," she instructs as she finishes her food and crumpled up the wrap. "I made sure we took the fast reacting ones."

"Okay," you rub your eyes again. "Thanks."

"Alright, well, I should go. It's really late."

"Wait."

This time when you reach out, you're actually able to grab her arm.

"I'm—I… I'm not tired."

"Just lay down, you'll fall asleep."

"No, I…" you trail off. Her earlier words are still ringing in your ear despite your continual effort to not address her plans to separate.

You look to Katherine. The expression on her face is something that's gradually becoming easier for you to read the longer you spend time with her.

She knows exactly what you want to say. That, or she really just wants to leave already.

You bank on the former and decide that you can't be so direct. "Can we talk?"

"About what?"

"About my brother."

A pause.

Her eyes narrow slightly, looking for your ulterior motive.

You have one, but it isn't that obvious. Not if you're leading with this. And it doesn't hurt that you also kinda want to get this off your chest.

"I need to talk to someone about him," you roll your eyes at your instinctive vagueness and correct yourself. "I want to talk to you about him."

Does she even care? She's listened to you once before, back in Port Hill when you couldn't fall asleep. Back then, she'd been right about just addressing whatever it is head on.

"Elena, I—"

"Please," you all but beg. You're not going to fall asleep, you don't really want to be alone right now, and if it isn't for her intention to leave you later on, you'd probably just let her go now.

She bites her lip, exhaling a sigh, "Okay. But move over, because unlike you, _I'm_ tired. And I have a feeling this'll be long."

Your expression lifts at her agreement despite her joke. You'd only half expected her to relent.

The lights are still on, but she lays down on one side of the bed. You stay seated as she makes herself comfortable.

"Well?" she demands after a moment of silence.

Oh right. You claimed you needed to talk about this.

"Um, I told you how… what happened to him, right?"

"You mentioned it."

"Yeah." There had only ever been one other time you seriously talked about Jeremy to Katherine and its almost funny how much contrast the situation is compared to then. "Well, you already know my parents wouldn't ever speak with me if they had the choice."

"Mhm."

"Greyson and Miranda," you begin, thinking back to that night. At your trial, your lawyer, Fell, had put you on the stand. You know what you had to say then and it's pretty much the same now, except Katherine isn't about to put you to death for something you didn't do. "They were never home. But the one night they are, they decided they wanted to act like parents and ground me. Jeremy had told me not to sneak out. He told me to try and make peace with them by listening, even if their reason was ridiculous. Suffice to say, I didn't listen."

You look to Katherine and her eyes drift to the ceiling. She wasn't lying about being tired, that's for sure.

"A few of the kids at school threw a party in the woods," you say, pushing through your retelling. "Jeremy was there. I told him I was coming but when I got there I couldn't find him. I got drunk, so wasted I don't even remember half the night, but I recall walking away from the party to… avoid someone, and then…"

"You found him?"

"That's the thing. I don't know."

You shake your head, feeling the ache dissipate. As someone who never forgets a thing, the fact that you don't know the answer to this is frustrating.

"I don't know if I ever will."

As trying as that is, you know there are some things you need to accept you'll never get the answer to.

"Weren't you speaking with you aunt?"

"Jenna."

"Can't she help you?" _Now that you're not in jail_ ; is something she doesn't need to add.

"Maybe."

There's a long pause where you rub your foot with your other foot. It's cold.

"You didn't kill him," Katherine assures. "And one day, you will figure out what happened."

"How do you know?"

Your counterpart doesn't say anything at first, shifting so that she's lying on her side. "I just do."

"I don't know if you're just trying to cheer me up or if you're really that optimistic."

"I wouldn't say either."

You chuckle, holding your bad shoulder and laying down as well. The lights are still on.

"Is this also why you're so sure you can clear your name?"

"Heh, now is that a genuine question," Katherine mumbles, copying you, "or were you just leading to what you really want to ask?"

Sometimes you forget she can read you this easily. You think you'd be used to it by now. "Both?"

She yawns, "I know I'll clear my name because I know exactly who killed Viktor and specifically why they blamed me for it."

"But you couldn't even prove it when you went to trial."

"Who said I went to trial?"

Your brows furrow. You'd just assumed… but hadn't the news outlet covered the great Viktor Pierce's death thoroughly? Hadn't the entire case gone on for a long while? No, you don't remember. You hadn't been paying attention and by the tail end of it, you had bigger problems to worry about. A dead brother, for starters.

"And to answer your _actual_ question; sure, Elena. Do what you want. I'm not going to stop you."

You frown at her direct answer to your unspoken question.

You feel the need to explain.

"I don't…" want to sound cheesy.

You don't want to say that you need her but that's not too far from the truth.

For a while now, you've felt you'd had no purpose, no direction. When you were transported to Port Hill, you'd accepted that a good portion of the rest of your life would be spent locked up for something you didn't do. Finding your twin, taking part in the escape, being on the bad side of both Sage and Jules, trying to both avoid and weasel information out of Isobel; all those things had kept you preoccupied—given you something to resist against.

But now that you're out, you have no idea what to do.

Hell, since you don't even remember that night; you have no way to prove your innocence, and you still don't. Just like the first escape, you have no plans about the after—about now.

"I just—" you stop when you turn to her and realize that she's fallen asleep.

A little guidance would be great but sticking with Katherine and helping her figure out her mess is something you can do.

It's certainly much better than trying to face your own existential crisis.


	5. And Miles To Go Before You Sleep

**Chapter Five: _And_** _ **Miles To Go Before You Sleep**_

 **A/N: Alrighty. How are you guys liking this sporadic updating schedule? I'll deem an appropriate date soon but as for now I hope you're enjoying the story so far. If you have any questions, concerns, or even ideas~, give me a shout out! But other than that, thank you so much for reading!**

 **Also, the point of views being twice Katherine and then twice Elena is purely coincidental. So, it won't always be like that.**

 **Um, enjoy?**

 **Perspective: Katherine**

-x-x-x-

" _The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep."_

 _-Robert Frost_

"There's not much else to it," you say as you walk down the narrow hall. Elena is a step behind you as she gazes around.

The warehouse basement is small and the dim hall you're walking down is short. It consists of ten doors on each side that lead to twenty separate rooms, and another door at the end that leads to a staircase.

You don't know if all the rooms are filled but there's not a doubt in your mind that Jeremy Chang makes more money down here than he does on the scrap yard at ground level.

A woman passes by with her head down as she slowly makes her way to a room. Your nose wrinkles at the invasive smell that lingers around her. When was the last time she showered?

"I wonder what people have to do to end up here," Elena inquires once the woman is out of earshot.

"Break out of a prison?" you supply, and she tilts her head. Of course, no one besides Pearl and the four of you that accompanied her came from Port Hill but who knows?

"How does Pearl know this guy?"

How does a Pharmacist convicted of aggregated assault and theft know a guy who hides people in a basement? As sweet as she is to her friends, Pearl had once gouged out a guard's eyes for looking at her wrong.

You've only met Jeremy Chang twice and, to answer Elena's question, you shrug. You know better than to ask something like that.

Elena understands this when she shrugs, mostly with one shoulder. Her left arm is in a sling and if you look closely, you can see minor stitches along her right temple. They're a bit amateur and you probably could've done a better job.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Don't tell me you can't do anything!"

You share a look with Elena the second you hear Sierra's obnoxious voice.

It comes from an open door on the way to the staircase, so seeing the commotion is inevitable.

"I don't know what to tell you, Sierra." That's Pearl.

She doesn't sound _that_ apologetic but there is sympathy in her voice.

You look in when you get to the door just as Sierra unleashes another round of expletives.

"Will you shut up," you can't help yourself. Just from your spot you can tell what is going on. April, Sierra's injured friend, lays unconscious on the only bed in the room. You don't need the details to know that like a child, when she's upset, Sierra is a little shit. "This isn't a hospital. You're lucky Pearl even took you with us."

" _With_ you?" the two women in the room turn. If you were naïve, you'd think, just from her face, that the blonde is merely mad. From the way she looks at you, her glare is straight-up deadly, but this just makes you want to goad her on more.

Sierra ignores your obvious lie about _them_ being the ones rescued at the last minute and goes straight to blame. Blaming you, specifically. "You did this."

Her words throw you off. _How?_

It only takes her a second to stop yelling at Pearl and start talking as if she and her are on the same side against you.

"Last night, she was the one who dropped off our food. She did something to it!"

"Sierra," Pearl shakes her head. The older woman had asked you to drop it off, and even that small task, you hadn't wanted to do.

"You're blaming me for April's condition."

"Yeah, I'm blaming you. You did something!"

"You have some fucking nerve—"

"Okay," Pearl cuts you off, getting in between. "That's enough. Katherine didn't do anything, so just back off." She meets your eyes with directed irritation, " _Both_ of you."

You pull up your hands as a sign of surrender, and you step back. You hadn't been the one to start this.

"As if I want to be here," you say aloud before leaving.

Elena's face is observant when you pass her. She doesn't comment as she follows you out.

You huff off a breath, but the second the obnoxious blonde is out of sight, she's out of your mind. The entire conversation is too stupid to give another second of thought.

"She really has it in for you," Elena says as you reach the threshold to the metal stairs.

"She just wants an excuse to claim that bounty."

"Right," the younger girl nods.

 _Does she know she's_ _younger?_ the random thought jumps to mind.

"By how much is that anyway?"

You easily focus on the conversation at hand. How much is your silence worth to the Pierces?

"How much do you think it is?"

Elena frowns, "Why do you never give me a straight answer?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"You want me to guess," she states.

You nod in response as you lead the way up the stairs.

"Fine," Elena rolls her eyes, but tilts her head in thought. "Well, at Port Hill you weren't getting tackled left and right, so it shouldn't be that high."

 _Interesting thought._ Though, you're more surprised she hadn't already learned the answer to this information from a certain Bonnie Bennett. That girl was an encyclopedia of knowledge and fairly-accurate rumors.

"But then again," Elena reasons, "Isobel was protecting you for most of your time there. Though how influential would she really have to be to keep them from trying to claim that money?"

You give her a look over your shoulder. She knows just how influential that woman was in there. That shouldn't even be an inquiry.

"But I mean, that doesn't mean it wasn't high."

She rationalizes this aloud and then looks to you for confirmation.

You raise a brow, "That's not a guess."

"100 thousand?" her voice echoes against the metal walls.

Elena is unsure.

It's funny because there's a 99.9% chance that the bounty of criminals from the official FBI is bouncing around in wherever her photographic memory stores all its information, and she's basing her guess on a logically appropriate number using that information.

Only thing is, sound logic doesn't exist when it comes to your uncle.

You've both reached the top of the staircase.

"I'm sticking to $100,000."

"Hmm," you hum, pulling at the metal latch on the door and swinging it open.

"Shit," Elena mutters, covering her eyes. "That's bright."

Like a vampire, she hasn't been outside for days now.

You step out and she follows. The door leads to the back area of the warehouse. The area is well hidden and can't be seen unless you know what you're looking for.

"Damn, when you said, 'junk yard' you weren't kidding."

Its more of a scrap yard really. A lot of materials are sorted in mountainous piles, and most of which are metal scraps. There're also a good number of run-down vehicles scattered around which, earlier had proven to have been an easy way to get rid of that van you came in with, without leaving much of a trace.

"Yea, at least it doesn't smell bad."

"That's true," Elena rubs a hand over her slung arm. "So, what is it?"

"Huh?"

"Your bounty?"

"Oh, yeah." You start heading one way and Elena falls in step with you, "100 grand is a good guess."

When you'd first gotten the bounty, you had also researched official government ones just to see how you compared to real criminals.

"It's 1 million," you say casually even if it isn't a common number.

"1,000,000?" Elena grabs your arm with her good hand. "You're a goddamn walking lottery ticket. I should hand you in myself. I could hire an obscenely good lawyer, and then some."

You scoff.

"That's crazy."

"I'm sure my uncle would've willingly gone higher if it didn't draw in the wrong attention."

"Wrong attention?" she asks, only for clarification.

"Police. FBI. People looking into sketchy activity. 'She's already serving time, why would they want her dead so badly' kind of questions."

"Doesn't putting any bounty kind of invite unwanted questions?"

"Yes, but 1 mil is both a high amount and not high enough. If anyone asks, he's rich and looking for vengeance because justice wasn't served properly in his eyes. They wouldn't immediately leap to trying to shut me up."

Elena shields her eyes from the sun as you continue your trek. The metals easily reflect the light everywhere.

"When you said you knew who killed your grandfather and framed you, you meant him?"

"Bingo."

"And you said you never had a trial?"

"Not a proper one…" you trail off, noticing how more automatic your answers are now. "Why all the questions?"

You'd expected this, but lately, Elena's gotten more and more confident with the types of questions that she asks.

Just a few months ago, she would've never been so offhanded about such a specific topic that has nothing to do with her. This was about your grandfather, your family, your conviction, your problem, and here she was asking, and she hadn't even ever met the ass-hat.

"I'm going with you," she asserts. "I want to know what I'm getting into."

Last night, you had told her that she could do whatever she wanted, following you all the way back home included, but you really wish she wouldn't.

Whatever happened to speaking to her aunt Jenna? Or confronting the parents who'd cut ties with her? Granted, she probably needs her innocence proven before attempting to do the latter but still. She has better things to do than tag along with you.

Or maybe she doesn't?

What other reason would she have for being so stubborn?

You purse your lips. Elena isn't the devious type, so your best bet is that she feels like she has nowhere else to go.

"You have _no idea_ what you're getting into," you warn with emphasis, even though nothing you say will deter her.

"Which is why I'm asking."

You gaze at her warily, dreading the inevitable.

"Okay, since you clearly don't like me asking, is there anything I should know?"

 _Yes_ ; is your immediate answer but you don't voice it.

The open-ended inquiry sounds genuinely innocent. If so, you wonder if she remembers what you'd been saying just as the first portion of Block D was shipped off onto that bus. How bad was this concussion of hers really?

"Yes, actually," you preface. "Since I'm guessing you can't be dissuaded from this, you need to understand that from now on what I say goes."

"You're laying down rules?"

"Sure."

"Okay, but you know that wasn't what I meant."

"Mhm. But that's literally all you need to know."

"Katherine."

" _Elena_ ," you mimic.

"Ugh, fine."

"What was that?"

" _Fine._ "

"No, I need to hear you say it."

"Say what?"

"My way, or no way."

She looks at you like you've grown another head. You're completely serious, if not intentionally being a pest.

Elena rolls her eyes, "Your way or no way."

"That's right."

"God. If I knew you were this obnoxious…"

You only raise your brows as she trails off, muttering the rest.

"Where are we going anyways?" she asks, once she realizes where she is.

"Well," you begin. It may have just been last night that she asserted her decision to stay with you, but you'd already anticipated the possibility long before that. "Since we're going to be sticking together, I figured we would need a few things."

She nods. "Supplies."

"Yes, but also, we can't stay here forever. We aren't about to walk to where we're going, and we can't keep trying to find a vehicle in the middle of nowhere."

She glances around, "So, you brought us out here to look for a functioning car?"

"No," you shake your head. You're sure there's a glint in your eye that shows her your mischievousness. _ **"**_ I already found one."

If Rebekah was here she'd say this that was a typical cycle for you in your everyday.

You get into some misfortune. You asses your surroundings. You come up with a plan. You execute the plan.

You might not want Elena to tag along but she's always proves her worth.

"I just need you to help me hot-wire it."

-x-x-x-

It's a good half an hour later, after you'd shown Elena the car that you'd both got to making it start.

"Wait, so which one am I supposed to cut?"

You'd seen this done in the movies. Granted, those films have never given a full tutorial.

"The red, and the yellow."

Luckily for you, the fact that you're here is proof that Elena knows what she's talking about.

The car door is open, and you lean on the driver's seat as your fingers sift through coloured wires under the steering wheel. The car is an old model, and you might've picked a more decent looking one than this old Jeep, but it was one of the only ones not buried under piles of other cars. Though the thing that sold it over the old Chevy you'd found, is that it still had an engine attached to it.

Elena sits at the passenger seat, holding her bad shoulder.

"Where did you learn to do this?" you ask, genuinely curious. You know actual criminals and they've taught you no such thing.

"My friend Matt."

"Matt," you mutter, thinking if she's mentioned him before.

"Yeah, he's one of my best friends. The mayor's son."

"The mayor's son? Sounds like typical standard rebellion."

"I guess. He did it for fun. I'd tag along sometimes so I'd seen him do it enough."

"And I'm guessing that's all it took for you to remember."

"Yeah. He's a good guy though don't get me wrong." A pause. "Oh, I can just imagine what he'd say if he knew I had twin," she laughs.

You halt what you're doing and peer up at her.

"You guys dated," you say conclusively. It was obvious.

"Uh, what? What makes you say that?"

The weather isn't that bad but the car you're in and the effort you're exerting has you wiping a sweat off your brow. You try not to laugh. " Other than the fact that you're blushing right now? I don't know, Ellie."

She flinches at the nickname, Isobel had once told you Elena hated it, but she doesn't rebuke you.

"Wait was he your first?" you abandon the task in lieu of a supposed epiphany. "Your _only_?"

Elena tenses, her doe eyes widening before she can stop herself. Now you _really_ want to laugh.

"It's not like that," she defends before realizing she doesn't need any justification. "Why are we talking about this."

"No reason," you say, leaning back down under the steering wheel.

You hear her sigh. She was too easy.

You chuckle to yourself.

Focusing on your task, you find the wires Elena had mentioned and saw-cut them using the key Elijah tossed you.

You do this to two pairs and twist them together like she'd instructed earlier.

"Now what?"

Elena grimaces, trying to peer at what you're doing under the steering wheel but being unable to. She reaches over and fiddles with the knobs on the car's outdated console.

"The radios on. Just... strike the four wires together. Careful. They're live."

You do as she says.

"Shit!"

You almost singe your fingers attempting to start the rusted Jeep but at the 5th strike and pump of the accelerator the car rises to life.

"I thought that would take longer."

"You picked it up quick, that's for sure."

"I did," you say, taking the compliment without returning it.

She shakes her head.

"So…"

"What's the plan?" you finish for her.

"Yeah."

"When we can, we're going to my house. I need to find some evidence against everyone who took part in putting me in jail."

-x-x-x-

 **A/N: So, this thing with Katherine hiding something. Honestly, feel free to tell me when its boarding past "intriguing" into just "annoying" category. I've mentioned something in pretty much all her chapters so far and that might get annoying.**

 **Thanks for reading guys, feedback is always welcome!**


	6. Or Take A Chance

**Chapter Six: _Or Take A Chance_**

 **A/N: This is a mess! I'm so sorry for the absence honestly. I lost the usb I had for this story, thinking I didn't need a back up. I didn't like how this chapter turned out even before I had to rewrite it but you guys deserve an update. Enjoy enjoy enjoy.**

 **Perspective: Katherine**

-x-x-x-

 _"We really only have two choice. Play it safe, or take a chance. For me, pulling back because of fear has always made me feel worse."_

 _-Gail Sheehy_

You grimace, tilting your head.

You turn on your side, watching your reflection do the same.

It doesn't hurt—your stab wound, that is—at least not as much as before. A good sign. It's healing on the surface, for sure.

You stand in front of the only full-length mirror in the bathroom of Chang's warehouse basement. It's communal, men and women, but you noticed that you were the only one in here when you stepped out of your shower stall.

You shiver.

The action had given you flashbacks of Port Hill but you know better than to think you're still back there.

With a tired sigh, you rip open the gauze package you'd taken from the first aid kit Pearl had left in Elena's room. You tape it over your wound. There's a few bruises here and there from the crash but you're honestly more surprised you hadn't lost a limb. And as refreshing as a shower is, you'll feel all the better once you get out of here.

Isn't that what you said about escaping Port Hill, though? Here you are and it's no better.

You should leave soon. As mad as surviving a crash is and somehow finding shelter in what you suspect is a low-key human trafficking basement, you have no time to panic about anything.

Surprisingly, Elena's been going with the flow fairly easily. You know her well enough that, even in this type of situation, it doesn't seem like her. Maybe she's really taking the _"my way or no way"_ mantra you'd given seriously. Or maybe you just don't give her enough credit.

Once things settle down, she'll no doubt be back to her too-curious self. As for now though, she needs to stay as cool headed as she's been because you're heading back home. Somehow.

You tug at shirt you pull over your head, thinking of _how_ you're going to do that exactly.

Dealing with the Pierces takes some grace. Some delicacy.

There's no way you can just walk up to Viktor's estate, or yours, especially. Even if your mother's house belongs to you, you know your uncle has somehow wormed his way into doing with it whatever he pleases since you've been gone.

He has the place surveilled, that's for sure.

Tobias Pierce.

Maybe he's dropped dead since the last time you checked.

You shake your head.

Your uncle's young, and if Elijah's reason to leave you behind is any indication, Tobias is alive and well, and consistently checking up on you.

By now, he's probably heard of the crash, but he wont have any idea where you are.

Maybe you can spin that to your advantage.

 _So, what do you need to do Katherine?_ you focus on your list. There's always a list.

Get out of here. Find a way to get home undetected. Get Tobias convicted for Viktor's death. Clear your name.

You aren't naïve enough to think that there's no expiry to Chang's hospitality. Even if there wasn't, you aren't the type to put off your to-do list.

You pull on the strings of the zip-up hoodie you'd been provided, hugging yourself for a second.

It's cold.

Being fifteen feet underground does that.

There's a shuffle behind you and you jump.

The woman who walks in doesn't notice you, but your hand has gone to your side and you realize you've tensed up. Shit.

Your face contorts as you meet your reflection's eye. There's no need to be so jumpy.

Taking a look around the empty white tiled room, you pick up the towel and the rest of the items you'd brought in and walk out. You can't be hanging around in the bathroom. You have better things to do.

-x-x-x-

Alcohol. Vinegar. Water.

And soap, for good measure.

Your nose wrinkles as you watch the suds of the concoction you'd made run down the glass.

It smells.

You're at the jeep now, the sun beating down on you, as you try to clean off the grime on the windshield from years of dirt and weather. It's slow but the thick layer trickles down easily.

You'd only learned of this recipe when you'd been tasked to clean some windows around Port Hill. The prison had been too cheap to order some actual glass cleaner at that time but you found that this worked better. The only downside was the odour.

With a huff you step back from the car, shielding your eyes from the sun.

Your next course of action now is simple. Get to your house. Find the envelope you'd stashed away. Use it to clear your name.

Of course, it isn't that straight forward, and the situation might be a bit extreme. Though, you've always been a resourceful person, such confidence should always be reserved with a decent side of caution. You're bold, not stupid.

The only... hindrance you might have is Elena. The thought of dropping her off somewhere along the way has crossed your mind, though it's doubtful to occur.

You hadn't found a cloth to use for the Jeep, so you dash the windshield with a bucket of water.

Like the rest of this situation, it's not perfect, but you'll make it work.

"Hey."

You turn to see Pearl approach you.

"What's all this?"

"Getaway vehicle," you answer truthfully.

The older woman plans to stay here for a while. Apparently, she and Chang go _way_ back. You don't question it. You don't care to know, and besides, Pearl is the furthest thing from a threat to you.

"Chang won't mind, right?"

"He won't even notice."

"Perfect."

"You found the key to it?"

"No."

"That's right. Elena knows how to start it. What's her deal anyways?"

You respond with a curious look.

"I thought you hated her?"

"Why would you think that?"

"The entire prison thought so. I just assumed."

"Hate is a strong word," you say. You don't like a lot of people but hate? —that's a different story and a much shorter, more specific list.

"I thought so," Pearl retracts her earlier statement. "With family, it's either one or the other."

You agree without verbal confirmation, but not about Elena. Unlike her, your adoptive family are people you can't wait to confront.

It's not that you're _not_ nervous, but the second you see your uncle's face when he realizes he can't pin his crime on you anymore will almost be worth getting locked up in the first place.

Your grin is blithe.

"So, were you looking for me or just wandering about?"

"Looking for you. Actually, your sister pointed me this way."

You don't flinch at the familial address for Elena—you've said it yourself—but it sounds awkward hearing it from another person. You've never had a sibling, and you're not ashamed to admit that, unlike Caroline, you've never secretly wanted one.

"Jeremy wanted to talk to you," Pearl adds.

"About what?" Your question isn't defensive. You've met the man twice now, and you have a good idea of what he might want to talk about.

"Just some confirmations. He wants to know how soon the four of you will be out of here."

It's deliberate that she doesn't include herself. For certain, she's welcome to stay as long as she wants.

"Alright," you agree, dumping the rest of the bucket water onto the rear window. You wince at the ache on your side.

"Port Hill mix?"

You nod at her observation.

"Where'd you get the stuff for it?"

"The shed down that way was open," you point, lying. It had been locked and you'd found a way to pry it open.

Pearl doesn't look like she believes you, but she only raises a brow with a nod for you to follow.

You dust off your hands as you do.

-x-x-x-

At the warehouse, Pearl leads you up the metal stairs to the rooms on the upper floor.

The building isn't completely empty. There's plenty of workers milling about, sorting material and moving scraps.

They pay you no minds.

You pass a few of them and Pearl stops at one of the only open doors.

Jeremy Chang, with black hair and eyes just as dark, sits leaning on the edge of his desk with his arms crossed. He's a short man with a slim build and a small but notable scar on the right side of his face.

He speaks to another man whose back is turned to the door.

Chang's stern expression lifts the second he spots the woman beside you. You know that look.

He gestures her in and you follow her lead.

"Just get it done," he demands, irritated as he dismisses the man.

Your eyes follow the lackey as he passes by, leaving without another word. Pearl closes the door behind her and you stop yourself from tensing up. You have full confidence that Pearl wouldn't do any wrong to anyone who didn't deserve it but it never hurts to be some level of paranoid. Would Pearl double cross you? Ever?

The answer to that, unsurprisingly, is yes. For the right price.

"Hey, Jeremy," you greet, using his first name because Pearl does. "Pearl said you wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes," he uncrossed his arms. Shifting his weigh on the edge of his desk, he grins.

It's unsettling.

"How is your stay? Hope all's well."

"Good. You already know how thankful I am for your hospitality, but I doubt that's why you wanted to speak."

A deep gurgling sound comes from the back of his throat as he chuckles.

"Blunt. I like that about you," he points with mirth amusement, directing his next words to the elder woman in the room. "Didn't I tell you that?"

Being blunt is one thing, but if you knew him a little better, you'd want to roll your eyes and tell him to get to the point.

"You did," Pearl answers.

You know what he wants to talk about—the only thing you haven't really spoken with him about—but men like to believe they're leading the conversation, so you wait.

"In any case, as much as I like you, I'm afraid hosting you and your friends is going to cost me too much in the long run," he says. "And I'm not even getting paid for it."

"You want to know when we can leave?"

"Yes, but," he's gotten up and is beginning to circle you like a hawk. "You used my medical equipment, my facilities, and when you leave you'll probably want to take a car with you because we're in the middle of shit-ville. What do I fucking get in return, hmm?"

His hand is on your shoulder.

"Jeremy," Pearl warns but the man only glances at her.

"A friend," you say firmly—easily, ignoring his hand and adding, "in a high place."

"High place? If you were even an inch higher than where you crawled out of, you wouldn't be here of all places."

You deliberately make eye contact. As disgusted as you are, he doesn't advance at you sexually. His eyes are stern, prying enough to see if maybe you're worth something, but closed off enough that he can deny any involvement with you if the time ever comes.

"Jeremy," Pearl cuts in before you can affirm anything, "we have a deal."

He side-eyes her and very suddenly chuckles again, stepping away, "I just want to know what I'm dealing with here. You know I hate surprises."

"Why worry about it now? They've been here for four days."

"Yeah, four days without any sort of…rent. And that girl making a loud fuss yesterday…"

"Sierra."

"Whatever. I can't have that around my business. You know this."

"I know. I told her."

"I'm not associated with that woman," you cut in between the two to clarify, "but if you want to know when I'll be gone, my sister and I will leave in the next two days."

"See?" Pearl says, "Katherine will be gone before you even come back from Vegas. And I'll make sure the other two follow just as fast."

Chang's glare doesn't leave his face, but he hums an agreement.

"Well, it's been nice meeting you, Katherine. Unless you come back with some cash, I hope to never see you again." He dismisses you without another glance.

Pearl gives you a reassuring nod before you leave.

Shutting the door behind you, you gaze at the open warehouse from the view of the second floor.

 _That went well,_ you think, half sarcastic.

The few workers with their hard hats and boots are hard at work. The metal scraps are in piles, even in here.

Walking down to where Pearl had led you up you pause at an open door on the way to the stairs. You've gotten a good peek inside.

All the workers are on ground level, and judging from what you've seen, no one pays any attention to you.

You're leaving this place soon, sure, but it's not like you're overflowing with resources.

You step into the room. It's an office. The typical filing cabinet on one corner, a desk, a chair, and files. The thing that caught your attention though, is the laptop sitting open on top of the desk.

Rounding the table, you're disappointed to find the computer turned off and refusing to turn on. Drained battery, perhaps, with no charger in sight.

You sigh.

A little information on the outside world wold be nice. A news report on the crash? A public warrant for all the escapees? A nation-wide warning that murders and criminals are on the loose?

Pulling at the drawers, there's only three that open and you find a cellphone in the last one.

It's one of the classic models of Motorola, a black flip phone that indicated no required pin.

Pocketing the phone, you walk out of the office, rushing to exit the warehouse, and head back to the Jeep. Snooping is never a sign of good faith. It's better to get a better look at the phone outside than have the owner of the office return to find someone rummaging through their stuff.

Okay, you think, thumbing the phone open.

You wrack your brain thinking of who to call.

The cavalry? Your house? The Mikaelsons? No, they would just hang up on you.

More importantly: Who's number do you still remember by heart?

A much as you assert a plan of action, knowing who's done what to you doesn't make it easier to know _how_ you're going to prove you'd been framed.

You have a plan but where do you start really?

It only takes a moment.

Your next steps form perfectly in your head. You have the answer. You know exactly who to call.

The phone beeps as you dial.

9.

You pause only for a second.

Your hesitation dissipates as you press the last two numbers.

1\. 1.


	7. It Does Not Exist

**Chapter Seven:** _ **It Does Not Exist**_

 **A/N: Okay, guys, I got you. A consistent weekly update. Bi-weekly, maybe. I'm fairly confident that that's possible.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

 _"You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist."_

 _-Friedrich Neitzsche_

 _You walk down the narrow hall._

 _It's dark, empty, but there's a light at the end that comes through the door that leads to the staircase for the surface. You frown. You would question why you're out here but something tells you to move forward towards the light._

 _You stay in your spot._

 _"Elena," a voice calls._

 _It's familiar._

 _There's a thrumming in your ears that swells gradually. You take a step and you realize it's your heartbeat,_ _beating so loud that you can hear it's rushing through your veins._

 _Tha-dum...tha-dum_

 _...tha-dum._

 _Tha-dum._

 _Tha-dum._

 _Why are you out here? What are you afraid of?_

 _"Elena."_

 _You move forward and suddenly your hand is on the knob of the staircase door._

 _It's_ _already swung_ _open when a loud sickening thud reverberates around the metal room._

 _Someone is on the floor and you've frozen._

 _Bloody. Bruised. Twisted only in that way when you've fallen from a great height._

 _Between that and all the_ blood _, you recognize that red fiery hair._

 _Sage._

 _But that's impossible._

 _Your hand is still on the door knob, knuckles white from your grip, so when you jump back as something else—some_ one _else falls to their death, you don't get very far._

 _This time, the mangled remains of the person is male._

 _His hair is short and his eyes are blank._

 _He wears a beige Port Hill uniform._

 _A guard._

 _N. Brooks_

 _His blood is on your clothes._ _On your hands._

 _You don't even realize that the stairs are gone when another person comes crashing down, smacking the pavement like a glob of putty. The echo of cracked bones are something you can't unhear._

 _Blonde hair this time. Penny._

 _Followed by another. And another. And another._

 _Rebekah_ _. Caroline. Bonnie. And then Jeremy._

 _A cold, steel-like hand grips your ankle and you would've screamed if your voice hadn't caught in your throat._

 _You look down and Sage's lifeless eyes stare through you._

 _All of them do as they speak in a dark and chilling chorus._

 _"You did this."_

You bolt up, grabbing the first thing you could reach but also wanting to shove it as far away as possible.

"Breathe, breathe."

Your eyes open to Katherine but they dart around the room, searching over her instructions to calm down.

You meet her gaze and is surprised when the ones that stare back aren't lifeless and her hold on your arm isn't cold.

"Elena, breathe."

You nod slightly, shaking off the chill that runs through you.

"What the fuck happened?"

You swallow the lump in your throat.

It was a dream.

"Sorry," you mumble.

Your fingers firmly press against your head.

It throbs like it's going to fall off and it doesn't help that you have an actual open (stitched) wound on the either side.

You apologize but you don't try to explain yourself. You're still trying to wrap your head around how vivid that felt.

There's a pause, and then Katherine stands up, tossing you the sling you use for your arm.

"Alright, well we have to go. Put that on, get your stuff."

"What?" you look to her in bewilderment, "why?"

"We're leaving."

"Now?" You knew you would leave soon and you aren't complaining, but this seems abrupt. "Did something happen?"

"No," she says but she's already out the door and it almost sounds like a, _"Not yet."_

You frown, waking up fully to grab your sweater and pull the sling over your head as you follow her.

"What's the hurry?" you ask.

"Jeremy Chang spoke to me. He demanded we leave as soon as possible."

You nod, pausing at the door of the staircase to the surface only for a second.

There's no fallen bodies on the floor.

When you get to ground level you see that it's dark out.

 _How in the world?_ You could've sworn you'd only closed your eyes for a few minutes.

There are bright lights that illuminate most of the scrap yard leaving one of the clear paths towards the getaway Jeep.

"Where are we headed then?"

"Not sure yet."

"Not sure..." you repeat.

"We've got to meet up with a few people."

"But you don't know where?"

"Not yet. Come on."

"Wait," you huff. "Stop walking so fast."

You're still recovering. Where was the fire?

"Why are you hurrying so much? Even if we're being kicked out I doubt Chang is right behind..." you trail off, looking over your shoulder just to make sure.

You're almost there when you frown, grabbing a hold of Katherine's arm with your only good hand, "What are we running from?"

In place of Katherine's answer you hear, _Ding_ _di-ding, ding._

You gaze down at the sound. Katherine pulls out a cell phone that she doesn't immediately answer.

"Uh," you drawl out. When did this happen? "Where did you get th—?"

She shushes you as she flips open the phone.

"Hello?" she says in a suddenly small voice.

You can't hear the other side but Katherine pauses for a second indicating that whoever it is, is speaking.

"Yes, please," your counterpart says in a voice not unlike a plea. Your brows draw together. "I need your help. My name is Katherine Pierce. I'm a prisoner of Port Hill Penitentiary."

Your eyes widen and your free hand grabs the wrist holding the phone to her ear. Katherine resists but you don't let go. She meets your eye.

" _What are you doing?"_ you mouth, as your headache increases with your panic. Who is she talking to?

"The last thing I remember was a bus. We were being moved," she continues like you aren't giving her a death glare. "Please."

She pauses and you think the person on the other side is talking again but you realize, the longer it goes on, that Katherine is using it for effect.

"I-I don't know where I am. It's dark. I need you to come—"

And with that, she shuts the phone.

"What the fuck?" you demand, "Who was that?"

"The police."

The earth spins for a fraction of a second.

"What?!"

Why would she? What would she gain from that?

"I have a plan."

"A stupid one!" you blurt out.

Katherine raises a brow, nodding her head to the side to continue the walk. "We'll see."

You follow, "Wait, why did _they_ call you? How long have you been talking to them?"

"Since a half hour ago. I called them earlier and hung up. If you do that, they try and call right back. I didn't answer the first few."

"Why would—?" you cut off, figuring it out on your own. Why would Katherine call the cops here making it sound like a distress call? Why would you two be hurrying out of this place?

"Wait," you repeat, reaching out to stop her again, as you state, "You want the police to find the warehouse."

Katherine turns back to you to nod.

"But—" you stop yourself from finishing. _Why_? Why would she want the place that's harboured you for the past few days to be seized? Of course, the entire place gives you bad vibes but doesn't calling the police put you and her in their crosshairs? She had given her own damn name! You had escaped from the crash without detection, a lot due to being able to lay low in such an inconspicuous area.

A lot in part due to Pearl.

You shake your head, taking in that Katherine has gotten you, and only you.

You didn't have any qualms with separating with the elder woman but she had literally saved your life. "What about Pearl?"

"What about her?" Katherine doesn't miss a beat.

You don't expect that response so it takes a second for it to sink in. "What?"

"Really, what the fuck?"

The two of you turn to see Sierra emerge from behind the jeep.

Your breath hitches. How long had she been there?

"You called the police," she says, the ever-present anger in her voice sharper than usual. "To come here after we _just_ escaped."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Katherine questions. Her eyes scan the Jeep and the woman.

"Taking you with us isn't worth this trouble," the blonde hisses, "Pearl should've listened to me."

Katherine chuckles and you glance at her from the corner of your eyes. Why is she laughing? You hate to say it but if Sierra had any right to be mad, it's now. How could Katherine do this?

"I don't need to explain anything to you," is her response.

Right, but you'd really appreciate if she explained things to _you._

"And quite frankly, I don't have time for this," Katherine says with finality, passing by the blonde as she gets to the car.

"No, I really think you do," Sierra says. You're surprised she doesn't step in front of your twin, rather she maneuvers closer to you, and in one swift motion, grabs the wrist of your free arm, twists both of you around and presses something cold under your chin.

You realize it's a gun only a second too late and you freeze.

Sierra's grip is firm and since your left arm is in a sling, you're stuck.

You watch Katherine's reaction, not sure what to do.

"That's not yours," she says with an appropriate amount of anger that wouldn't necessarily provoke anybody. Problem is, Sierra isn't just anybody.

"Yeah. I found it in that jeep over there. Sucks that you don't have the key to lock it. You were going to use this to make sure none of us are in your way, huh? Just in case poisoning April wasn't hindering enough."

Katherine frowns, looking a fraction more cautious than before. She meets your gaze.

"Okay," Katherine shifts her weight, taking a step forward. "You can have it. But Elena and I are really going to go now."

You blink a few times, making sure to breathe so you don't pass out from the sheer shock of it all.

Not a second ago you were having nightmares of people dropping to their death in front of you. Figuring out that you and Katherine are going to leave abruptly and now having a gun pointed to you by someone who you're sure is only half sane has your blood pumping too quickly.

Your head thrones from it.

"Don't you take another fucking step!" she warns, shoving the barrel of the gun harder against your skin.

It's at that moment that the phone rings again.

Time freezes when it stops… and then rings again.

"Give me that phone."

Katherine doesn't move.

The phone rings.

"Give me that fucking phone!"

"Goddammit, Katherine," your voice is half shaky, "just give her the phone."

It rings one more time.

Katherine pulls it out of her pocket, flipping it open, as Sierra repeats herself.

"Give me the damn phone!"

"Alright," she holds it up, looking to you. "Why don't we trade?"

You feel Sierra scoff, tilting her head, "I don't think so."

"What the hell is this?"

The voice comes from behind you.

The world spins.

A loud _BANG,_ reverberates through your right ear, deafening the headache you already have.

"Shit!"

There's a shout of pain and you open your eyes to see Pearl on the ground. Sierra hasn't let go of you but she's loosened her grip.

"Pearl," Sierra shakes her head, "I'm sorry!"

You can't believe what you're seeing. The elder woman is in obvious pain. Her hands are over her leg with blood profusely gushing from it.

"What the fuck?" Pearl shouts between her cry of pain.

"Katherine called the cops!"

There's a hard shove forward and you fall to the ground, suddenly free.

When you get the chance to look up, you see that Katherine has tackled Sierra. The gun is a few feet away from them and it seems your twin has the advantage.

"What the fuck is going on, Elena?" Pearl insists firmly through clenched teeth. She's loud enough that you can hear her even in the distance.

You push yourself up, shaky from having a gun literally on your face, and you move towards Pearl.

"My god," you mutter, kneeling beside her.

"Is it...is it true?"

"What?"

"Katherine. She called the police?"

You meet the older woman's eyes. You owe her your life. Pearl doesn't deserve this. You aren't friends but from what you've learned, she only wants to see her daughter again.

The familiar sound of a car roaring to life makes your head turn.

Sierra is on the ground. She isn't moving but the fact that you can see her breathing means she's only unconscious.

The gun is gone and Katherine is at the jeep with the driver's side door open.

"Elena!" she calls to you.

"Elena," blood soaked fingers grab your arm. It might just be her leg but Pearl looks like she's going to pass out. And quick. "Did she?"

Your heart drops at her expression. You don't indicate a thing but apparently, your face is telling enough.

"How…" she blinks slowly. The blood loss. "…could she do this?"

Pearl closes her eyes.

"Hey," you shake her, "stay awake."

She does nothing more than groan in response, and you call out to Katherine in a panic, jumping when you feel her hand on your shoulder.

"She's going to bleed out," you say.

"She won't," Katherine doesn't sound as reassuring as you think she intends.

"What?"

"Are you coming?" she asks and you look to the jeep again.

How can she be asking that when the woman who literally saved you all is dying right in front of her?

"What are you saying?" you're incredulous. "You're just going to leave her? After everything she's done for us?"

"Yes," she affirms as you stand up. "Because the cops are coming. Let's go!"

You owe Pearl for saving you. For sheltering you. When the authorities come, this place is going to be seized, along with the woman who's been craving a reunion with her daughter. Every fiber of your being tells you, you can't just leave her like this; in the dark and in the middle of a scrap yard.

On the other hand, you owe Katherine just as much for keeping you alive, but she isn't the one bleeding out on the ground right now.

Didn't she feel even an ounce of obligation to the woman the calls her a friend? Where is her remorse?

"Elena, you agreed with me."

Your glare is sharp.

When did you ever say that?

"I told you that you can do whatever you want but I'm going to leave whether you like it or not. It's either my way or no way," she calls back the saying.

This wasn't what you imagined when you'd repeated it to her.

"Now's your chance. Which is it?"

-x-x-x-

 **A/N: Alright, alright. Thanks for making it to the end of this chapter. Haven't talked to you guys in a while so here's a question. Which perspective do y'all prefer?** **Is there even a difference?** **Does it matter? Is there a reason why you like one over the other?**


	8. Proceed Confidently

**Chapter Eight:** _ **Proceed Confidently**_

 **A/N: Happy New Years! So sorry for the hiatus, its been a while. This quote and title is definitely something remember when it comes to writing. Thanks for sticking around, I promise it'll be worth it. Also, is there anything you guys want to see in this story? There's a clear plot I can't steer too far off, but I'll see what I can do for any requests.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

 _"If you proceed confidently in the direction of your endeavors, you will meet with success unexpected in common hours."_

 _-Henry David Thoreau_

For a long moment you stare at her without meaning to.

Or maybe you do.

You still haven't quite gotten rid of the disbelief from your face despite scraping your jaw off the ground, and willingly following Katherine to the Jeep.

The car jerks as Katherine drives over a rough patch on the dirt road.

Now that you're sat here, you can't exactly recall what made you agree. Because by going with her you—yes you, agreed to leave a bleeding unconscious woman behind; who Katherine herself, not a second ago, had called "friend."

Your wipe the blood Pearl had gotten onto you when she grabbed your arm. This doesn't help.

"What?"

You shake your head, "We really just left her."

Katherine's brows pull gently together, "She was unconscious. Literally, dead-weight."

You shake your head again.

You'd question how she could say that but actions are much louder than words. She'd already left her behind, anything she says now shouldn't surprise you.

At that thought you question something that never truly bothered you. Do you really know Katherine? After everything, you thought you'd at least figured out her character. Though she might do some questionable things, she was morally sound. Or at least you'd assumed she was.

 _Stop being dramatic, Elena._

You don't know the person sitting beside you as much as you think you did. Big whoop.

The first second you saw Katherine through that slot in Solitary, you had concluded she was a bitch. Everything that happened, from ignoring you and onward, showed just as much evidence. The only reason you two warmed up to each other is because you were forced into the same side and you'd saved her from Penny.

You blink a few times.

Was getting you out of the bus crash her way of returning the favour?

"Returning the favour?"

You're startled to have Katherine looking back at you intently. You'd wondered that out loud.

"Is that what you think?" she asks, sounding more irritated rather than offended.

The car jerks again and you see that you're long gone from the mountainous piles of scrap and are now surrounded by woods on a paved road.

It's creepy in the dark of night, but what gets you is the sound of sirens in the distance.

"Elena."

"I don't know what to think. I didn't know Pearl, but you did. And you would just leave her. I mean, I guess I just didn't think you were the kind of person to do that to someone, okay? I mean, when we were on that bus you'd left me to look for Rebekah and Caroline, right?"

"Pearl is not Rebekah, or Caroline."

"No, I know. I just—she's your friend."

"And you're my sister," she disputes, once again getting straight to your indirect point. Challenging.

Your shoulders square up slightly at her bluntness. That—What could you say to that?

Blinking a few times again, an inner thought voices a retort, "And that means something. Now?"

You almost cringe at your own words.

They're intentional but even you know, given how often you mention it, that this makes you sound needy. As if you really are that insecure and you need constant affirmations of someone's true feelings towards you.

If you had time, you'd scoff—there's always a bit of truth behind every action. If you had time, you'd note how it's irreverently sad that you'd use affirmations like this to compensate for something your parents could never give you. Even subconsciously.

Maybe that's why you're annoyingly meticulous, but you do have a point to get to. You were sisters before she gave a shit. The only difference now?

"I've gotten to know you better."

Right.

"And I'm sure you got to know Pearl too."

 _You're being difficult, Elena._

"Why are you picking a fight?"

"Why can't I question you betraying a friend?"

"You can," she presses, "And I already gave you my reason."

"Not really. _"The cops are coming"_ doesn't explain a whole lot. It doesn't tell me _why_ you called them in the first place."

"Okay," Katherine huffs, turning the steering wheel to follow the curve of the road. "I found that phone in the warehouse. It was in one of the offices on the second floor. I stole it but when I went to the jeep, I realized it didn't have a sim card."

No sim card means no service.

No service means only emergency calls.

"So," you run your hand over the nylon sling as your fingers catch onto a loose thread, "the only people you could call were the police."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you just tell me that?" _Why didn't you tell Pearl that?_

You ask the latter in your head. She shakes hers and shrugs.

You observe her warily as she continues.

"There's no way I can get home all on my own. I need help. And having the police aware of my last known location also makes some others aware."

"Some others? Like your... uncle?" Would he even have the resources? What are you saying, you take that back; money is the world's harshest resource.

"Sure," she rolls her eyes, "But I'm hoping a few other people are listening and willing to come get us."

The fact that she even has people listening to that kind of chatter. "And you couldn't just borrow a phone from Pearl?"

"Pearl didn't have one. And before you say it, Chang already professed that he's done more than he was ever willing to."

"All that in _hopes_ of someone finding us? Well," you say, sounding more sardonic than intended. "I hope it's all worth it."

"Elena."

You frown, not sure what you're blaming her for anymore. Sure, she didn't have a choice. And sure, she didn't have to leave Pearl behind but you also get why she wouldn't want to take her.

You rub your eyes, turning back to the dashboard and feeling your heart sink at what you see up ahead.

"Katherine," you say, as the blue and red lights engulf your view, flooding the inside of the Jeep as it approaches the police vehicle.

There's two on the road. It's a road block.

Katherine slows down, stopping a few meters perpendicular to the cars.

"What are we going to—?" you hiss at her, wanting nothing more than to speed off.

"Relax," she says. "Just follow my lead."

"We don't have any—"

"Shh!" Katherine clasps her hand on your slung arm as the light of a flashlight approaches from the left side of the car.

There're two taps on Katherine's window.

You purse your lips to prevent yourself from making a noise as she rolls it down.

You squint at the light that filters in.

"Hello," a woman's voice says from outside.

The light comes down and you can see a short haired woman peering at the two of you. Her eyes are observant.

"Hi, officer," Katherine greets as she cranks down the window all the way, "what's going on?"

"Hello, ladies. There's been an emergency lock-down for the town borderlines. I'm afraid I can't let you through."

There's a long pause.

Your heart beats so loud it's a miracle the officer doesn't hear.

"What? We pretty much just passed the other side of town, it wasn't closed there."

"It's very recent," the officer pauses. You hold your breath, looking somewhere else to prevent yourself from giving anything away—there's no telling with your face, honestly. "Say. You girls are heading out of town. What's your business in Farmville, anyhow?"

"We're passing by. Took a detour at the Burger Bite for dinner," Katherine throws a thumb back the way you came, answering simply. "Is the block something we should be concerned about?"

There's another long pause.

You wonder if the long silences are just your imagination, because the officer and Katherine continue like there isn't any tension there.

"Not particularly. I suggest you turn back to town."

"Can't you tell us why though? What's the danger?"

"I can't say."

You blink, baffled that you aren't being arrested on the spot. You really mustn't look like the fugitive you so obviously feel like.

"But the best thing for you is to get back into town and stay at one of our Inns."

"Go back? We need to get home—"

"And you will. Once this ban is lifted."

Katherine huffs but, even with the loud beating of your heart, you can tell her frustration is exaggerated.

"The sheriff's office will make a public announcement tomorrow once the issue is resolved. So, I suggest you listen to me and turn your vehicle around."

"Hey, come on," you grab her arm to make a show of reigning her back. "Let's just find an Inn."

Katherine looks to you, and then back to the sheriff, before rolling her eyes and shifting gears.

"Fine."

The Jeep goes into reverse, making a u-turn once it's a safe distance from the cop.

You blink a few times, huffing out your relief. You can only imagine that Katherine's glanced at you because next thing you hear is her chortle.

You shake your head.

"Do you want to get caught?"

"Well, no."

Of course she doesn't, but you still have no idea how she does that. Laugh in the face of danger.

"It's a fucking miracle we didn't just get arrested."

"You're welcome."

"I highly doubt—" you pause, doubting that all the credit due is only to Katherine. If anything it'd mostly be to the sheriff who'd questioned her. "How did she not recognize you?"

Katherine had given her name on the phone, after all.

"However they conduct their sheriffs in this county probably isn't that organized."

To your favour, thank god.

And not to be nitpicky but the words "probably" and "isn't" shouldn't be used in the same sentence so casually.

"But if they don't recognize us now, they will soon."

And now, one of them already saw you together and she knows you'll be in town for the night.

Within reach.

Unable to leave.

"We can't stay here," you say. Obviously.

"And yet, we can't leave."

Your brows are drawn together, your lips pursed. A stupid part of you wants to go back to the junk yard. At least there, you have a clear picture of where the police will be.

That, or you're suddenly giving up.

This whole fugitive thing is exhausting, and you haven't even been out a full week. If you never end up clearing your name, you don't even want to think about having to be a fugitive for the rest of your life.

When buildings slowly replace the trees, you feel yourself shrink into your seat.

There aren't many people on the streets—not this late, you'd suspect—but you still feel like hiding.

"Now what?"

"You know, you always have something to say about my plans. How about you think of something?"

"I'm pretty sure you established that you were taking lead. In everything."

Katherine tilts her head, admitting with one look that she had basically said that.

"But seriously, last I checked I don't have any money for an Inn. Do you?"

"Of course not."

"So?" you press.

"Well, first of all, we aren't going to stay here."

"Of course," you nod, glad she's agreeing, "but all the roads out of town are probably the same as the one back there."

"But we also can't risk running into more people that can eventually identify us."

Well then, what are you supposed to do?

You glance out to the town. Katherine is slowly going down the road since there hasn't been a clearly decided direction.

Farmville sounds like a small town. It's not, but it's also not a bustling metropolitan city either. From what you can see, there's a few smaller business buildings closer together where the road leads, including a number of apartment buildings.

"You think we can lose them in there if we stay?" you suggest.

"I doubt it," Katherine says. "Any one of those cops knows this place better than we do. We could try to hide, but I'm not betting my life on finding some place good enough to avoid detection."

"I only suggest staying because," you don't want to, but you say this on the basis of logic, "isn't this where the people you hoped would come will search for you?"

"Hm," Katherine shrugs one shoulder. "While that is true, we can't depend on that. They would know better than to only check in this town."

"So?"

"Like you said, all the roads out of here are probably blocked. But Farmville looks like a moderately populated town. They shouldn't have more than thirty employed sheriffs. They sent some to the yard and some are probably in town."

"You're saying they'll be scattered?"

"Spread thin. That exit we went to had two officers, I'm betting at least one exit has only one."

 _The unlucky bastard._ "How are we supposed to determine that?"

"The long way, of course."

Drive around to each one?

"Okay," you agree. As if you can do much more than that.

Katherine follows a random road, following some faded signs to a North road exit before you even enter the denser part of town.

Using the signs for direction, you determine that there are five roads out of Farmville, including the first one you'd just been to.

The second, a fair distance away at the North exit, had two cop cars just like the exit you'd first encountered on the West.

Katherine doesn't drive up to them like the first one though. She makes a u-turn just as you hear one of the cop car doors slam open and shut, showing a police getting up to greet you.

The third exit, at the North-East, have two as well.

"Shit."

"Maybe you were wrong," you say. Maybe this county has sufficient employment in the law enforcement category.

The Jeep keeps more distance this time, approaching with the headlights turned off so they aren't so alarmed to your presence.

If they saw the Jeep, they don't show it.

You head off to the second last exit.

"Hey, there's only one car there," you point, getting your hopes up.

"Perfect."

"What are you gonna do? Speed by and hope he doesn't shoot at us?"

You can only hope whatever she has planned doesn't end up going wrong.

"Even better. Play dead."

"What?"

"Just do it."

With a sigh, you slink back into your seat, and lay your head on the side before going limp. "Like this?"

One side of her lips lift and she gives you a look that says, _"It'll do."_

"Hold on," she warns, suddenly speeds up a bit and halting close to the police car. The officer gets out, and in red and blue lights you see him pulling out his gun as Katherine flings her door, leaving it wide open.

"Officer!" you hear her, loud and frantic.

"Stop right there! Put your hands up."

Katherine does as she's told, looking between the Jeep and the officer. "Please! My sister! She's been stabbed. Some maniac in the woods—please!"

"Stay right where you are," he persists, but it looks like the lights from the Jeep are blinding him.

"Please!"

The officer hesitates, lowering his gun when Katherine pleads again.

"She's going to bleed out, please!"

"Okay, hold on," he fumbles with the radio on his shoulder and it crackles. "10-52, This is officer Holt, I've got an apparent stab victim at Road Block 8. Girl says they were attacked by someone in the woods. Requesting for backup. Over."

There's a crack of the radio, and the static sound of a voice transmitting, but you can barely make out what they say from where you are.

Katherine rounds the front of the Jeep gradually, insisting the officer follow.

You close your eyes as they get closer to your side and naturally walk out of view.

The door opens.

If you hadn't been strapped to a seat belt you would've fallen out.

"There's no blood," the officer states, confused.

There's a hand on your arm but then you hear that thud and you open your eyes, wincing as the cop falls onto the pavement.

You glance up at Katherine, "That was..."

"Easy?"

The second she says that, you jump back as you witness the cop leap up to her.

 _Shit._

There's a struggle that moves away from the Jeep into the dark of the road as you fumble with your seat belt so you can help.

You hear Katherine and the officer, but the thing that almost makes you freeze is the cop car that approaches.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit._

"Katherine!"

She sees what you're calling her attention to and so does the sheriff. It's a small distraction, and your counterpart takes this opportunity to disorient the man she's fighting.

The newly arrived cruiser stops behind your Jeep.

You're trapped.

A man gets out, and just like the first officer with the Jeep, you can't see much more than his silhouette due to his headlights.

He holds up his gun.

Katherine is ready, holding the first sheriff in a tight grip with a gun to his temple.

"Turn back now and I won't kill him!" she warns.

There's that long pause again.

This time you're sure it's real because it crawls all up your body and you're not even part of the standoff.

The new cop doesn't put his gun down.

 _BANG!_

You jolt back. Wind assaulting your lungs.

The officer with Katherine slumps, and due to his weight she lets go.

"What the fuck," she mutters, quickly pointing her own in defense.

Had her uncle found her?

"Relax, darling," the figure sighs.

He sounds almost... exasperated?

"He's not dead," the man says, dropping the hand that held the gun to his side. "I know you don't like that sort of thing."

Your brows furrow as Katherine relaxes; breath whirling past her lips in relief, "Kol."


	9. Knight In Shining Armor

**Chapter Nine: Knight In Shining Armor**

 **A/N: Et viola.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Katherine**

-x-x-x-

 _"Sometimes your knight in shining armor turns out to be an idiot wrapped in tin foil."_

 _\- Unknown_

"Finally."

"Finally?" Kol drops his head to ones side. "That call was sent out only a few hours ago. You're lucky I'm in the area."

You mirror his exasperation with your own but his eyes drift to Elena, stepping out of the Jeep.

Despite the directed headlights, you see his eye brows raise at the sight of another you.

Kol is quick—a clever quip already on his tongue, "I'd introduce myself, but you look awfully similar to someone I already know."

At least, he thinks its clever.

"Save the jokes for later, Kol," you reprimand, turning him from his very Kol-like introduction to Elena. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"As you wish," he takes a mocking bow, but blocks your way when you reach for his car door. "Whoa."

"What? We need to leave."

"Right. But neither of you two are sitting in here."

You begin to argue, figuring his next suggestion. "Don't suggest—"

"The trunk?" he tilts his head, lips curling in a smile. "Come on."

He pops the trunk open and you look to Elena before rounding the car to the back.

"Look, that bus crash happened only days ago," he starts.

"The crash you caused?"

"You did that?" Elena pipes in, looking from the fallen sheriff.

"Now now, no need to put anyone on blast. I merely laid down some tracks. But that's completely besides the point."

You look around the dark road, checking to see if there's anything or anyone heading your way.

There isn't.

"There's been more cops on the road lately. You don't want to run into any of them."

He's right, but that doesn't mean you have to like this idea.

"And if you get stopped and searched?"

"In a police cruiser?" he raises a brow. "Have a little faith, love."

You frown at him but Kol is actually one of the only few people you'd trust to get you out of a mess like this.

You have questions, but this isn't the place to ask them.

"Elena," you call, half wondering why she hasn't been interrogating Kol herself.

 _Oh._

The younger girl is kneeling beside the officer, about to reach over to check his pulse.

You're at her side in an instant, grabbing her hand. "Don't touch him."

She looks up at you with a puzzled look but a monotone voice, "He's—"

"He's fine. Don't leave any evidence for the police to find."

"He saw us. And your DNA is already all over him. What's one fingerprint?" She looks at your hand and then back to you, "I wanna make sure he's okay."

"He's just passed out. Hit his head on the way down."

"A bullet to the shoulder, Elle," Kol lays on a charming smile, reasoning. "Only a flesh wound."

"Don't call me Elle."

Kol's mildy taken aback expression is directed at you.

"We already had this conversation, Elena. Come on—"

"Yeah, we need to go," she finishes in a tired tone as she gets up.

Apparently, she heard your conversation with Kol because she hops into the trunk easier than she should with only one available arm.

"Charming," Kol comments. "Is she always like that?"

You resist the urge to shrug and instead ask, "You never said where you'd take us."

"To safety," he smiles, cheeky. "Come on, in you go."

You do as he says but feel a dread that only a closing trunk with you in it can elicit.

It doesn't help that the Mikaelson smirks at the action.

-x-x-x-

"Kol, huh?"

Unstrapped, you're jerked around in the trunk every so often as the car moves over the paved road.

It's pitch-black but you turn your attention to Elena's voice.

"Mikaelson, I'm guessing?"

Elena has an irritated edge to her voice. You suspect it has little to do with the Mikaelson.

"Yeah," you reply, not remarking on it. "How'd you know?"

"He kinda looks like Rebekah. And I doubt you only know English people."

You nod at her logic despite it being too dark for her to see the action.

"We can trust him?"

"Yes."

"But he _was_ the one that crashed the bus, right?"

"Yes."

"He crashed it and killed a bunch of women. He almost killed you."

You lick your lips. Well, that does sound illogical when she puts it that way.

"He was the one you talked to on the bus?" she continues. "The one who left us?"

"No," you answer. Kol had been there, true, if only for a little while.

"Then who was it?"

She hasn't asked this since the crash, and now that you're here, it's not something you can dodge.

"His older brother," you supply, and then continue because she wants details. "They took Rebekah with them before they left."

There's a short pause, "What about Caroline?"

"I'm not sure."

"So, they left… but you called them—?"

"Well—"

"—and they came back anyways? Am I missing something here?"

Why would they leave in the first place? Easy. "His brother, Elijah, doesn't trust me. He has his reasons, but he's a real dick when he sets his mind on something. As for Kol?"

Kol is the type to do whatever he wants.

"If you want a reason, you'd have to ask him that. I'm just glad he came."

Elena is quiet for a while and the rumble of the vehicle drills its obnoxious rhythm into your ears.

"Where are we going?"

"The police."

Elena jerks slightly. It isn't the car, and she doesn't have to utter that, _"What?"_

"Joking. I'm joking. Relax. We're going to a safehouse."

Kol isn't dumb enough to bring you to anyone's house, but he most certainly is conniving enough to pull some sort of bait and switch. It's not off the table but you doubt it.

"Lighten up, Elena."

-x-x-x-

"Oh yeah, this is inconspicuous."

You say this as you stretch from being cooped up.

"Nothings too big with six siblings. Eight, if you want to count you and little miss blondie."

"The lake house. Really?"

His signature smirk lights up his face.

Sunlight breaks through the Longleaf pines around the area, signalling dawn. Elena had fallen asleep someway through the trip and you'd drifted off as well. Over your shoulder, said girl rubs her eyes and struggles to get out of the trunk.

"Where are we?" she asks.

"One of the Mikaelson's many lake houses."

"Let's get inside," Kol ushers, going up the stone steps to the front door. "There's no reason we should get sick. I'm about to freeze my arse out here."

You follow him without waiting for Elena.

She's right behind you, glancing up at the tall ceilings of the foyer.

"No one's here?" you ask.

"Is there ever?"

"Tony, probably," you raise a brow, crossing your arms. The place is lit, dust-free and well-kept.

"Who's Tony?" Elena interjects. Her gaze occasionally roams the area as you all get to the living room.

"The groundskeeper. And housekeeper."

"Well, of course he's here. But I reckon he's fast asleep at the moment," Kol says.

Elena looks out the windows to the glistening lake, "This is where we're staying?"

"If you have another place in mind, feel free to go wherever you want, darling. But for now, this is it."

"In any case," you say, announcing your leave. "I'll be taking a well deserved hot shower."

Kol nods and Elena looks after you like she's going to say something but you're already gone.

Of the ten bedrooms in this place, only four of them have their own bathrooms. You head straight to the nicest one, cleaning up and relaxing for a while. You leisurely sit in a hot bath, almost falling asleep again before draining the tub and turning the shower head on full blast.

You gasp at the intensity, easily sagging once your sore muscles relax under the heat of the water.

After a long while you step out, drying yourself off and noticing a few scratches here and there. A half hand print just above your collarbone has you cringing as you adjust your necklace.

That sheriff had almost choked you unconscious. _Not_ something worth getting a bruise over. Not in that context anyways.

You roll your eyes and get dressed.

-x-x-x-

By the time you finish, the sun had fully risen.

"How far away did you say you were again?"

You find Elena and Kol in the kitchen, across from each other on the island.

Elena sits with her good arm on the table as she leans forward with focus. Kol, on the other hand, has his head down, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"I don't think I did."

"Huh."

"Say how far I was," he grins, nodding down to his cup. "Coffee?"

"Alright, I'm done," you announce as you enter with a towel in hand. "You should wash up, Elena."

You'd brought it just in case, but you really hadn't expected Elena to still be out here instead of finding her own room and cleaning up.

She looks to you over her shoulder. Suspicion crosses her face as she glances back at Kol before taking the towel you hand her.

"Okay."

"If you use the shower in the third room on the left, you'll find a change of clothes in the basket at the entrance," Kol calls out.

"Thanks," is all Elena says.

"Nosey girl, that one."

You fight off the chuckle you want to let out because Kol doesn't need any more encouragement than he already has. And he's not wrong, Elena _is_ nosey.

"You'd think I didn't just save your asses."

"Why did you? Don't tell me Elijah sent you."

"You know me. I just couldn't resist coming to the rescue."

He's sarcastic. And if you didn't know any better, his cheery demeanor would rub you the wrong way.

"Of course. Always the knight in shining armour."

Kol's smile widens for a moment and he chuckles, "At your service."

He jokes this, bowing his head and handing you the coffee Elena had refused.

"Wow, if I knew I had you this whipped I'd have used that to my advantage ages ago."

"Pierce, you'd just have to say the word."

Your hands embrace the warmth of the cup as you roll your eyes, "I can't with you."

"Can't? Control yourself? Can't resist?"

"Neither," you say, sipping on the coffee and reaching for the milk. "But seriously, Kol. I doubt Elijah authorized a rescue after he deliberately left me for dead at the crash."

"Since when has my brother's word ever stopped me?"

He's sat down on a stool and eventually, you mimic him, taking another sip.

"I could name a few times."

"Alright. Bar those few times."

You chuckle, pausing for a moment before turning serious. "Is Rebekah okay?"

"Yeah." Kol nods, "Pissed as fuck with Elijah. But she's okay."

You sigh.

"Fin and the others won't let her out of their sight. She would be here if she had any other choice."

"She would." Her tenacity would be the death of her. As much as she hates her family, it's good that she's with them.

"Listen, when I heard Elijah left you in that crash, I already knew Bex would demand I go back."

Fin is a real stick in the mud; rules are rules kind of guy. And he'd never get his hands dirty, if he didn't need to.

Elijah is a lot like his older brother; usually a bit more compassionate but he's a man of his word. Changing his mind after he gives it is never easy, and a lot more trouble than it's worth in your experience.

Klaus, on the other hand, couldn't care less. Even if Rebekah begged him, the asshole always thinks he knows better than everybody—especially when it came to the younger Mikaelsons.

And then there was Kol.

If coming back isn't to help you out, then it's to stick it to his older brothers. If you can count on him for anything, it's that he _would_ be the only one to listen.

Kol is never in short supply of rebellion.

"Besides, it's about time I repay Rebekah. This isn't too hard. This way, she can never make me do anything worst than this."

"Didn't you just stumble onto us?"

"Hey, don't discredit me. You're here, aren't you? It's not about the journey, love. And besides, I'm not done."

This peaks your interest, "Caroline?"

"Yep."

"Got any leads?"

He nods uncertainly, "What matters is I'll figure it out."

"You better."

Kol only rolls his eyes, sipping his drink, "You sound like my sister. I'd like some gratitude for a change."

"You'll get it when you find her."

"Hmm," he shrugs one shoulder. "Well, anyways, I can take you closer to home before I head out. I'm sure Rebekah will find a way to sneak out and meet you…" he narrows his eyes at you, "or not."

"Actually," you begin. Meeting with Rebekah isn't in the books. At least not for now. "I need a favour."

"That depends."

"What can you tell me about Tobias?" You plan on going home, but right now, you're flying blind. You don't even know if your uncle is in the country.

"It's not like we keep in touch."

Save for their father, the Mikaelsons' biggest connection to the Pierces was you. Kol wasn't exactly friends with any of your cousins.

"I only need the basics."

Because Kol had at least that. Fin wouldn't have been promising you safety when you met them in Port Hill if they didn't have at least one eye on the current head of the Pierce empire.

"Alright. What do you need to know?"

"Location? Status? Any plans the company might have?"

He nods, "Last I checked—mind you, months ago—Tobias had finished talking with the city about that hospital he promised to build in Viktor's name. You know."

Yes.

It had been all over the news when you first got to Port Hill. Back then, the family scandal had been the main headlines for all the news outlets.

Tobias had spoken to the press, sad and dejected looking, promising to commemorate his father as if he wasn't the one responsible. As if _he_ hadn't been the main suspect for months until last-minute evidence that pointed to you miraculously sprung out of nowhere.

"I think I heard Fin mention he was out of the country last month but I'm not so sure about now."

"What about my house?"

"Oh, there's still people there. Keeping it clean. Someone was trimming your hedges the other week when I passed by. I'm sure Graciella is in there somewhere."

"You're sure? Did you see her?"

"Ummm, nope. Sorry," he shrugs, and you startle a little when music suddenly blares from his pocket.

Kol pulls out his phone.

Holding up a finger to you, he answers cheerily, "Hel-lo?"

 _"Where are you?"_

The volume is loud enough that you hear the person on the other side.

"Out. About. Did you need something?"

 _"Your presence."_ It sounds like Fin's reprimanding voice. _"Father is coming back today."_

"Ooo," Kol winces like he's been hit, but he's far from apologetic. "Sorry, mate. I'm a bit busy. Father will live without his welcome wagon, I'm sure."

 _"What are you even doing?"_

You get up to leave him to his conversation, walking to the windows to see the outside.

The morning dew brings in a blanket of cold thick fog that snakes around the trees. The view up here is great, though in this fog you can barely see the dock from here.

The property surrounding the mansion might be big but the lake has more occupants than just the Mikaelsons. If anyone is visiting their lake house, you'll easily run into some neighbors who might recognize you.

You glance back to Kol, animatedly arguing with his brother.

He doesn't know much, but it's far more than you know.

At least, you have small idea of what's been going on.

You sip the coffee, going back to your room.

You lay down only for a second, but despite the caffeine, you easily fall asleep.


	10. Actions Are Visible

**Chapter Ten: Actions Are Visible**

 **A/N: Alrighty, I'm real sorry for the lack of updates. I've got some time, so I'm hoping to write at least the next two chapters.**

 **But anyhow, what're your thoughts on Kol? Anyone you'd like to see pop up?**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

 _"Actions are visible, though motives are secret."_

 _-Samuel Johnson_

You stare at your reflection.

You've revealed your face with a swipe of your hand over the foggy mirror and you sigh.

Tired. You're tired but the longer you stare at yourself, the easier it is to tell that it might just be this headache that's been plaguing you since the scrap yard.

You imagine this is what smashing a plate over your head repeatedly would feel like, but since you _had_ gotten a concussion from smashing into the bus window, that's probably an accurate metaphor for you.

You blink at the incessant pound, pound, _pound_ and try to focus on something else.

Eyes travel across the frameless mirror, and onto the counter top which, for some reason, looks like it costs quite a lot. How does a sink manage to look so fancy?

" _One of the Mikaelson's many lake houses."_

Katherine had mentioned earlier. Considering how spacious and well kept you'd noticed the way to the bathroom was, the entire place is fancy, and you wonder if this is just one of their better homes or if _all_ their lake houses look like this.

Hell, if this is their lake house, what does their house look like?

Just how wealthy are the Mikaelsons?

Kol had mentioned six siblings.

Exasperatedly, you might add.

You can understand why. It must've been chaotic growing up, but you'd like to think you'd enjoy that.

A big family.

You'd always wanted an older sibling. Someone who would take responsibility and have your back whenever your parents _visited_ home.

Ugh.

The throbbing in your temples doesn't cease and you grimace as you look to the stitches along your hairline.

Shivering, you zip up the hoodie you'd gotten before pulling the sling around your neck and placing your left arm into its cradle.

You leave the bathroom attached to the room you'd picked with uncertainty and head out to the hall.

 _Where are you going, Elena?_ You ask this to yourself.

Now that there aren't guards, or random homeless-looking people everywhere you have the freedom to do whatever you want. Probably.

But what do you even do? Wander around aimlessly, mapping the entire property in your head? Or maybe you could just admire the first truly clean living-space you've occupied in a long while. It's not as if you have anywhere urgent to get to. And if Katherine is taking this in stride (when doesn't she?) then you probably shouldn't be too concerned about the cops finding you here either.

Huh.

You should go find where Katherine went. Last you checked, you'd left her in the kitchen with Kol.

Seeing as he and his brothers are the cause of all this (leaving you at the crash, included) then you wonder what they could be talking about. You highly doubt you'll find them just catching up. You know that if you were her, you'd at least be pissed; but you're not sure what kind of relationship Katherine has with any Mikaelson whose name isn't Rebekah so maybe not.

"I don't know where she is, mate."

You stop short before the door for the living room, hearing Kol's voice.

"Otherwise, I'd tell you."

Pause.

She?

"I understand how important this is to you. Would I lie?"

A laugh.

"Fair enough. I'll see what I can do but…"

Short pause.

"—Yeah, that. You'll owe me, Damon."

You peer over your shoulder, suddenly hyper aware that you're just standing in the hall like this.

There's no one behind you.

"Well, hello."

You jump, screeching a little at the voice that's suddenly so close. You step back, meeting Kol's eyes.

"Eavesdropping on your host?"

"No, I—"

"—don't actually believe I wouldn't know the faulty creaks in my own house?" he finishes for you, stepping onto one of the floorboards you would've touched on your way here. It creaks a little.

Faintly.

Instead of feeling mostly embarrassed, your eyes narrow. "How would you even hear that from that room?"

Kol chuckles, seemingly unconcerned that you had overheard the latter part of his conversation to whoever Damon is.

"Who's Damon?" you inquire, tilting your head.

"A friend."

Its precise but not curt, so you inquire further since he already called you out on eavesdropping. "You were talking about Katherine?"

He shrugs, "Sure."

Sure? You just opt to take it as a confirmation. "Why didn't you tell him where we were?"

"Well," he walks back into the living room and places the phone down onto the console table behind one of the couches. "Would you like the truth? I feel as though you'd want the truth."

Why would you want anything other than that?

It's rhetoric apparently because Kol continues, "I like to see the bigger picture before I decide on my options. It seems I need to have a word with a childhood friend of mine."

"Katherine?" you guess. "She knows this Damon?"

"You are full of questions, aren't you?" he smirks, shrugging a beat later.

You wait for him to continue but he doesn't.

"Yeah, I am," you nod, "Are you going to answer anything I ask you or...?"

Kol is as dodgy as Katherine. Maybe they learnt from each other.

"I don't know. Like I said, I'd have to ask her myself. So that last bit's not something I have an answer for at the moment."

And you could probably do the same. You're sure Katherine would be interested in learning that Kol had been talking to someone who was looking for her.

"Alright," you digress. "I'll ask something you _can_ answer. How far away were you really?"

"Huh?"

"When you picked us up," it isn't that serious, but he'd dodged it the first time. And if he can at least answer this then he can't be all that dodgy. "How far away were you to be able to pick us up so fast?"

And besides, this isn't just you being obnoxiously suspicious. Katherine _had_ said to ask him why he came.

"Well, of course I was in the immediate vicinity. Otherwise, I would've never gotten there in time to rescue either of you."

"Right, but what were you doing?"

Kol's lips tug with an amused smile—his default one, it seems, "Retracing my steps. We'd passed by that town after picking up my sister, and well… Rebekah begged me to find her friends. Can't have her crying, now can we?"

The latter would be more believable if you never met the younger Mikaelson. Rebekah? Cry? Though you didn't talk much, if at all, you can't imagine the blonde doing that just because she didn't get her way.

"Speaking of her friends. I'd like to know. What's keeping you and Katherine together?" Kol questions, turning the table.

"Other than imminent danger, you mean?"

" _Despite_ imminent danger."

Your confusion is prevalent.

"It's much easier to find two people that look alike when you're right beside the other. I wouldn't exactly call that laying low. And contrary to popular belief, danger doesn't always push people together. Katherine specifically."

 _Katherine specifically?_ At this Port Hill comes to mind. Weren't there Sage's people? The warden's threats? Penny, Jules, and even Isobel?

Those dangers hadn't _not_ brought you something to work against together. But maybe prison isn't the best place to find an example to rebut his statement—even if that is the only setting you know Katherine in.

"She isn't the type to stick her neck out for others," Kol contemplates aloud, "Hell, Rebekah can't quite find it in her heart to forgive my older brothers for something they did in her best interest and yet the number of wrongs Katherine can afflict on her is bottomless."

"What does that—"

"I'm just saying, danger doesn't always bring people together."

"It's a pretty good reason, if you ask me."

Isn't it that two heads are better than one? Even if that sounds uncharacteristic to someone who's known Katherine longer, it's still the logical thing to do.

He shrugs, "Maybe I'm not quite expressing this inquiry correctly."

What did he want to know then?

"Hmm. How long have you known about the other?"

You raise a brow, but he waits so you reply, "I only met Katherine about half a year ago."

Even though, your counterpart knew about you longer. That's neither here nor there.

"Why?"

"Well, I'm curious. Rebekah, Caroline, and Katherine have known each other far longer. Forbes was on that bus, wasn't she?" he doesn't wait for you to confirm. "Tell me, where is she?"

"Um—" you shake your head, thinking back. "I don't know."

"Why would Katherine leave her close childhood friend behind but take the long-lost sister she barely even knows? No offense."

"None taken?" you say more to just say something. Because you do. Take offense. "And besides, Caroline isn't here because Katherine couldn't find her."

You'd asked about both the blondes briefly. There were more pressing things at hand that prevented you from getting details but when you'd first woken on that bus, Katherine had left you for a moment and returned with no one else in tow. You assumed the blonde couldn't be found.

"Hm," he hums, judgementally.

"And just so you know, we have a common goal," you defend, "We're trying to find our birth parents."

"Don't you have bigger problems?"

Like the police? And the Gilberts? And clearing your name, or running as far away from Virginia or even the whole country altogether?

You don't deny the towering power of those problems, but it's deeper than just "running away," and you're pretty sure you're not ready to face that.

"Mr. Kol."

A man, about the same height as you and with light brown skin, appears. His attire is casual, but the polo he's wearing is obviously a uniform.

"The papers you requested are ready."

"Ah, Tony!" Kol turns, wide smiling to the older man. "This is Elena."

The man looks to you wide a nod.

If he's surprised that you aren't Katherine, or if this is some lame prank on Kol's part, he doesn't show it.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Elena," he greets before snapping his attention to the Mikaelson. "Apologies for the interruption, but you had mentioned the urgency to look through the file, sir."

"Right. Well, nice chatting, Elena," Kol dismisses, walking off.

"Uh," your words get stuck in your throat at the abruptness of their leave, and both men are gone. You'd been in the middle of a conversation, not the end of one.

You sigh.

 _Alright_. _I guess, that's that._

You stand in your spot only for a second longer, remembering what you'd left your room for initially.

 _Right…_

You'd gone to find Katherine in order to look for some aspirin.

Now that you're alone, you're pretty sure either Kol or Tony could've helped in that department.

You walk down the direction they'd taken but after the hallway you're not sure where they went. And you can't hear them.

If you hadn't been preoccupied…

You pinch the bridge of your nose, relieving pressure off the headache that's suddenly more notable now that you aren't engaging in a distracting conversation.

You'd reprimand yourself more about not even asking the men which room Katherine is in but a second hall later and you find a bedroom door wide open. A figure you'd guess is your counterpart is sound asleep on the bed.

That wasn't too hard.

You go in. Stopping yourself from waking her and opting to check the bathroom first.

Your medicine cabinet had been empty but maybe hers isn't.

The bathroom is almost identical to the one in yours: white tiles, pristine bath tub, shiny shower head and faucets.

The only glaring thing would be the small pile of red stained cotton balls and gauze on the sink. Blood.

It doesn't seem like enough to cause for worry but you glance back out at Katherine anyways.

Good thing you hadn't woken her. She probably needs all the rest she can get.

Tugging the mirror open, you check its contents.

Cotton balls. _Okay_.

Nail file. _Alright_.

Tweezers. _Huh_.

Q-tips. _Right_.

Toothpaste. _Pretty standard._

Floss, and pretty much everything in between.

Everything but aspirin.

"What are you doing?"

You gasp, closing the mirror cabinet to see Katherine at the door, rubbing her eyes. "Don't scare me like that."

"Oh, the horror," she mocks with a that croaky voice you get after a deep sleep.

You shake your head, chuckling, but then your eyes fall back to the cotton balls on the sink.

"You're okay, right?"

"Huh?"

You point at her torso as Katherine covers her mouth to yawn.

"Concerned?" she asks, "I thought you hated me for leaving a friend behind."

"I don't hate you. I just—I was shocked. And no, don't deflect. How's your side?"

"It's fine," she shrugs, deflecting anyways. "Are you looking for something?"

Okay. You'll ask later.

"Yeah, heh," you glance at the mirror sheepishly. "I've had this massive headache since the yard…"

"Since yesterday?"

"Yeah, actually," you nod. "Sleeping won't get rid of it, so I'm resorting to drugs. But I can't find any."

She laughs, "That's because they aren't stored in those cabinets."

 _Isn't that what they're for?_ you think, but you only convey the confusion with a look.

"Here," she turns, gesturing you to follow her out of the room and she leads you to a painting that she swings open. It reveals a small cabinet mounted behind it, hidden out of sight.

There's a numeric lock pad on it and Katherine presses four buttons. It beeps and the small red light on it turns green. She swings open the door and inside there are three tiers of medical remedies, mostly in pill form.

"This is some serious first aid kit."

"Yeah, I'd say."

"What is all this?"

"I'd list all of them, but pharmaceuticals aren't exactly my strong suit. Literally all the drugs someone would need."

"Why is it—" behind a painting? No, more like, "You're telling me, every time someone gets a migraine, they have to open the secret stash of secret drugs?"

"Nah," Katherine says, thumbing through the bottles and packs of gauze. "Tony has a medicine cabinet by the kitchen. It's too far."

"That doesn't explain all this though," you gesture to the bottles.

"The Mikaelsons might know a few drug cartels," Katherine responds bluntly. "I don't know, I don't usually question it."

 _Right._

You want to keep asking but the latter is an indirect, _"And you probably shouldn't either."_

She goes through the small pill bottles picking out one and handing you two blue caplets.

"Do you need water?" she asks, directing you back to her room and handing over a half-filled glass on her bedside table.

You take it thankfully, downing the pills with premature relief. It hasn't even kicked in yet.

"Thanks," you say, with a sigh. "Okay, well you were sleeping so I'll just leave you to it—what?"

Katherine's tilted her head, eyeing you.

"Don't move," she says, reaching up and brushing some lose strands of your hair back.

"What?" you repeat.

"Your head."

"Ugh," you flinch away when her fingers lightly make contact with the wound on your temple and she shows you.

"You're bleeding."

"Huh." You blink at the faint red on her hand before she pulls back.

"Sit," she instructs and goes into the bathroom, coming back with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a bunch of other items. "Sit on the floor."

You do this as she sits on the bed, placing your head on her knee.

"Is it—is it bad?" You're bleeding but you don't feel anything, so it probably isn't that bad.

"No, what did you do?"

"Nothing. Take a shower?"

"The water might've been more pressurized than it should've been."

"Oh yeah," you chuckle a little as she dabs alcohol-soaked cotton on your head, and you hiss. "Ugh. I didn't know how to change the setting on it."

"The default setting is definitely not open-head-wound friendly, that's for sure."

You hadn't felt anything, but it was probably because of the headache. It'd been too prominent for you to notice much else.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm just cleaning it up. Almost done."

You assume she's finished when she caps the bottle of alcohol, but you don't move your head yet.

"Hey, I haven't really asked but, what happened on the bus?"

She glances at you and you turn your head to meet her eye.

"You mean, with Kol's brother?"

"No, I mean," sure, that too, but after Kol, you're a bit more concerned about, "what happened to Caroline?"

Not that you wouldn't have been less concerned before, but you had been a little preoccupied.

"I couldn't find her, and we couldn't stay there for long."

"Yeah," you sigh. Why did Kol make it sound like Katherine had intentionally left Caroline for someone as unimportant as you? Like Katherine is only keeping you around to use you—as if that even makes sense.

Granted, you already know, Katherine is the type of person who could abandon someone without a second thought, it doesn't make sense that she'd be _using_ you. For what exactly? The only thing you bring to the table is an eidetic memory and its not like that's tangibly valuable.

"You alright?"

Katherine has a raised brow and you lift your head, nodding.

"Oh, yeah," you say, reaching up to point at your head. "I'm okay, right?"

She nods.

"Okay, well like I said, I'll just go—"

"Do you want a tour?"

"Huh?"

"Of the property. It's pretty big. Did you want a tour?" she offers. See? That doesn't give you a she'll-sacrifice-you-in-some-cult-like-ritual-before-you-know-it sort of vibe.

"Yeah?"

"Listen. Unlike you, I can't just go back to sleep after I've already woken up. Thanks for that, by the way."

You snort. "For your information, I didn't wake you. You did that all on your own."

"Alright, come on," she leads, pulling on a sweater.

You follow her out the door.


	11. Wisdom Comes By

**Chapter Eleven: Wisdom Comes By**

 **A/N: Alrighty, as promised.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

" _Wisdom comes by disillusionment."_

 _-George Santayana_

"So, I've asked around."

Katherine looks up from behind the glow of a computer screen, to Kol as he enters the study.

"About what?"

You sit at a couch, a book in your lap, having found Katherine in the lake house study looking over something behind the fancy office desk. The study is small, but you'd found a book that piqued your interest.

You'd barely sat five minutes before Kol came in, files in hand.

"Your uncle, of course."

He has her full attention and half of yours as you continue to glance down at the paragraph you'd been on.

"It seems he's out of the country. A business trip to the Maldives, not a week ago."

"And the tabs?"

"Simultaneously, he's still on the look out, waiting for your reappearance. I reckon he'll up your bounty. Makes me reconsider turning you in. Who knows when I might need some fast cash?"

He taps her forehead and she swats his hand away.

"Either way," she says, "if he's not here, it's safe to stop by my house."

" _Safe_ doesn't quite fit the bill."

She rolls her eyes, looking back to the computer screen.

"What could be so important you'd risk capture again? I'll have you know, I only promised Rebekah to get you safe. I'm not risking life nor limb chasing your arse."

"I wouldn't ask you to."

Kol makes a face. "Alright, you tell Bex I warned you. She won't believe me if I did."

Katherine merely shrugged.

"You're ruthless, you know that?" He shakes his head and sighs, placing the files he's been holding onto the table. There are two manila folders, one much fatter than the other. "I suppose this will change your mind?"

Katherine pulls aside the laptop and a third manila folder you hadn't noticed earlier, and leans forward as she opens the biggest file.

Curiously, you get up and move to the table.

"I suppose," she imitates Kol's accent, but she actually looks pleased with what he's brought.

"What is that?" you ask.

The folder is opened and Katherine skims through it, organizing papers in piles. Your eyes scan the papers with most of your attention being caught by the pictures. Gruesome pictures.

"Viktor's case file."

You raise a brow at Kol, and he replies with his smirk.

Connections, sure whatever, but still, this shouldn't be as easy to get as he makes it look. You haven't even been here for long.

You reach over, looking at some police reports and spreading out the pictures.

From their angles, these are definitely official police shots. It's in a study, if that big oak desk is anything to go by, and a gun rests on the edge of it. On the other side is a man, slumped back in his chair. Another picture features a closer look at the victim; he sits in his big office chair, eyes wide open with blood all over his white shirt, his hands, his face and the wall behind him. From what you can tell, his chest sports far more than just a few bullet holes.

You blink, ineffectively trying not to sear the images into your brain.

"This is everything?" Katherine asks.

"Part two, yes. As far as I know," he replies,

You skim through the papers closest to you as they talk.

Katherine had ended up in Port Hill for supposedly murdering her grandfather: the wealthy, fearsome, business mogul, Viktor Pierce. Bonnie had told you about her the first week you'd gotten to Port Hill and you remember seeing the case on the news prior to Jeremy's death. If you recall, the reason why it took them so long to close it was because Katherine hadn't been the first suspect in the case.

Several photocopied prints of something that looks like pages from a police notepad catches your eye.

 _Tobias Pierce,_ it reads in a scrawled but neat little cursive. _Suspect. Possible on location at time of murder, 45 Esterlene Gate._ _Reason: visit victim. Relation: son. Motive?_

"Your uncle," you begin, asking Katherine. "He was the first suspect?"

"Yes," she replies.

"I remember hearing initially that your grandfather had committed suicide."

She nods, "That was quickly ruled out by the nine bullet holes to his chest and the gun across the table."

"Pretty damning evidence for a murder, so it's baffling how they even came up with suicide," Kol adds.

"How did they end up with you?"

"I had no alibi."

Katherine shakes her head at your questioning look. She glances at Kol and he shrugs, no doubt having heard this already.

"I'd gone to a club the night of his murder. Fortunately for Tobias, no one could place me there."

"But that doesn't mean anything," you dispute, even though she had ended up in prison anyways. "Not without a motive or evidence that you were there."

She chuckles cynically, "Definitely. My dear gramps' butler—I thought I could trust him. He told me that my uncle had been there that night to see Viktor. Told me he'd testify to that fact. He never showed up to court and when he did, he pointed his finger at me."

"You trusted this person?" you ask sympathetically. You only have Tony as a reference but if Kol can keep two fugitives in this place and expect his butler to keep that information hidden, then there's a level of trust in this type of relationship for one to tell the truth when it really counts. "Do you know why he did it?"

Or did that matter to her?

"Well, he disappeared after, I didn't get the chance. But I'm working on it."

"You're not mad?" She trusted the man, why wouldn't she be?

"I've been mad, Elena. There's no point in being angry right now," she shakes her head, "Besides, who would I yell at? You?"

"Oh, that's not something you want," Kol says, but he sounds like he's only half joking.

Not that you'd want to provoke it or anything, but Katherine is pretty slow to anger.

"So," you steer back to the topic, "we're going to your house, and then find this butler guy?"

"No."

You tilt your head.

" _We_ aren't going to my house. I am."

"What?"

"I'm—"

"How many times have we gone over you trying to exclude me from things, and me still going with you anyways?" you interject.

She narrows her eyes.

She doesn't say anything, and you raise your brows and smile, challenging.

Kol eyes the two of you. He grins, directing a question to Katherine. "By the way, how do you know Damon?"

"Who?"

Apparently, this is the best time to ask this.

Kol _had_ told you he would ask her, and though you aren't too sure the significance of one guy on the look out for Katherine is, you're also curious.

"Damon. Damon Salvatore."

Katherine shrugs, clueless, "No idea who that—"

"Oh, come on, darling. You bloody well know who I'm talking about. I can guess how you know him. I just want to hear you say it."

"Wait, he's—," Katherine frowns, meeting your eye momentarily, "Okay, I know the guy. What about it? And how do _you_ know him?"

"I asked you first."

"Of course, but I can also _guess how you know the guy. I just want to hear you say it._ "

"Katherine."

" _Kol_."

"Alright," you interject, "I'm not even part of the conversation and I wanna know. Who's he to both of you?"

They look at each other expectantly before Katherine gives in first with a sigh.

"Alright. The guy visited me in Port Hill," she explains, adding, "Frequently, I might add."

You raise a brow.

"Not like that," she says, seeing your face. "Though, I admit, he _is_ my type. Chiselled jaw, piercing blue eyes."

"Whoa, wait," you suddenly get an epiphany, thinking back to Port Hill. "Frequently? All those times you were gone?"

"Yes." Katherine is mildly surprised you put two together, but she continues with visible irritation, "Said he was from the FBI and that they reopened the case. Promised he could help get me out."

"He's not from the FBI," Kol snorts.

"Gee thanks, I figured that once I found out the case was still close and would apparently remain that way."

Kol tilts his head, obviously pondering on that.

"What?"

"Uhm," he draws out for a moment. "He really thought you wouldn't help him if it wasn't an active case."

"Or if I didn't know he wasn't a federal agent who held any sort of power to clear my name."

Kol frowns, nodding.

"So, how do you know him?" you direct.

"Like I told you," Kol points, "He's a pal. Met him in the Navy."

"You were in the Navy?" you're incredulous.

From what you've gathered, the Mikaelsons equals crime, crime, crime. Right?

"I've got to learn my trade somewhere."

"You like telling people that, don't you?" Katherine interjects. "He was in it for maybe a year. Less."

"Two, for your information."

"Whatever. They kicked you out."

He shrugs, admitting her words.

As prejudice as it makes you feel, that makes sense.

"I've been lending him a hand on several closed cases. I should've figured he'd reach out to you too. That only makes sense," his disappointment is short-lived. "He may have lied to you, but I can promise you, his endeavour to take down Tobias is real."

"Closed cases—?"

"What does he do if he's not FBI, then?" Katherine finishes the thought for you.

"Private Investigator. Tells me he's been working on a few cases that all obscurely lead back to your uncle. But of course, no solid evidence."

"I told him I had some proof."

"For your case?" you ask. Is this why she's so confident? Because she already has it all solved and tied together with a neat bow?

"No," she shakes her head. "On another case. At Port Hill, I told Agent Salv… Damon, that I would give it to him in exchange for evidence of Tobias framing me."

"But then you found out he wasn't FBI," you state.

"And then I got stabbed, and Isobel was a pest, and then you blew up Block D," she deliberately glimpses at you.

"Hold on, I didn't—"

"You got stabbed?" Kol places his chin onto his knuckles. "I could've sworn Fin said you'd fallen off a balcony or something."

Katherine's nose wrinkles in that _"Are you serious?"_ kind of way.

Kol only shrugs again.

"So, this Damon guy's looking for her now in order to get the evidence?" you ask, waving your hand. "Whatever it is."

"Look, darling, I'm not about to tell you his life story, but the bloke is sincere." He meets Katherine's eye, "He's got federal connections. I'm positive you can work something out."

She rolls her eyes in response.

Looking down at the files, you notice that the thinner of the two was still closed. You reach out to it.

"What's this?" you repeat your earlier question.

Katherine places a hand over it, preventing you from opening it and making you look up.

"That's..." she starts, eyes softening slightly. "That's for you actually."

"For me…?"

She nods, "Jeremy's case file."

Before you even think of it, you pull your hand away like you'd been burnt.

"Look," Katherine leans on her hands, meeting your eye. "You're here to help me out, but you should look into this too. I'm not the only one who's wrongfully convicted."

You heave a deep sigh, but nod.

She's right. You can't put this off. As much as you want to, it would be beyond idiotic to just leave this in the air because you didn't feel like dealing with this… trauma.

Jeremy deserves to get justice for his murder.

She flips open the file.

-x-x-x-

"Says here he was texting someone up until around the time of death."

It's a few hours later and you look to Kol, who's sat on the couch.

The three of you had gone over more information on Katherine's case before moving onto yours, much to your dismay.

"Yeah, court said it was me," you say. Adding more context, "Trying to lure him away from the party, but they never even found that phone…"

"Speaking of burners," Kol interjects, coming back to the table and setting two nondescript, black phones onto the table. "These are for you."

"How do you know he was texting a burner?" you ask. The cops had said the same during trial, citing that you'd used one in order to avoid texting from your phone and incriminating yourself.

"Says right here," he points at the report he was looking through. "Plus, I believe the cops, at the very least, intelligent enough to find a service line attached to someone's account if there is one."

Katherine picks one of the phones up, turning it on and pressing a few buttons.

"Thanks," she says.

"A few essential numbers are on there. I reckon it's easier than ringing the police."

You pick yours up as well, not recognizing any of the numbers but figuring you'll ask Katherine later.

"So, this has been fun, but I've got to go. Got to move on."

Katherine looks at him pointedly.

"Yes, yes." He continues without a word from her. "I'll find our blonde friend. Make sure she's safe and sound."

"Caroline?" you ask for clarification.

"Yes," he nods, smirking. "It's been good meeting you, Elle."

You make a face, but wave anyways.

"Don't get into too much trouble," he says to Katherine who only nods in response.

He's gone a second later, and you hope he'll be as successful in finding your friend as he was finding the two of you.


	12. Prying With A Purpose

**Chapter Twelve: Prying With A Purpose**

 **A/N: Ah, currently in another country with spotty wifi. Here here.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Katherine**

-x-x-x-

 _"Research is formalized curiosity. It is poking and prying with a purpose."_

 _-Zora Neale Hurston_

 _Blood stains._

 _No alibi._

 _Grudge._

 _Innocent?_

You pause at the word "Innocent" and check to see which officer wrote it. Surely, it wasn't the officer on your case. You have a feeling he and his partner had been paid off, but you can't be too sure. The "No alibi" part is right, it isn't like you have evidence for your whereabouts…

Er, well you do, but it isn't like you can use it.

You flip another page, rubbing your eyes.

"Miss Katherine!"

"Oh hey, Tony," you greet, pulling some files to the side so you can check another.

"Have you been up all night?"

You don't remember when it happened, but you'd moved to the kitchen some time in the night. And yes, yes you have.

"No. But I would really appreciate some coffee."

"I'll get the water boiling right away," he nods, pulling out the kettle.

You turn your attention back to the files.

The police had sequenced the events of the murder into five stages. You write them down in a new piece of paper to gather your thoughts.

One. Apparently, you'd gotten into an argument with Viktor in his business office in the city. Two employees had been a witness. His secretary, Leona Harker, and one of the security guards of the building who'd been on the top floor when this theoretical argument had happened.

It hadn't happened. You'd outgrown arguing with Viktor in public. If anything, you would only do so if you had some ulterior motive to embarrassing the Pierce patriarch in a less than private location. But they had two eyewitnesses and the prosecutors had buried it under the other "evidence" against you, skimming over any actual details, and only using it as a stepping-stone of sorts for your motive.

Two. The murder weapon was a gun registered under your mother's name. It had been in your house. You'd seen it before, you knew where it was hidden, and yet you hadn't touched that thing since Amelia had shown it to you when she purchased it.

Amelia had hidden it out of sight. You had no reason to think your uncle would know it's location and you'd made the mistake of saying so. The prosecutor used that to distance Tobias from the murder weapon.

Three. Viktor has only two children. Amelia and Tobias Pierce. The younger, Tobias, as similar as he is to Viktor, is set to only inherit a few properties in the event of his father's death. Amelia, though dead for six years now, would inherit the rest, and since you are her only heir, you get everything that she owns. All the assets under Viktor Pierce would fall to you on your 18th birthday. Evidently, that event fell mere months prior to his demise.

A clear motive, if you do say so yourself.

Only, you hadn't known all these technicalities before he died. A lawyer had to tell you after the fact. But also, you could've sworn your grandfather hated you, and vice versa, and yet, he had six years to ensure he changed his will, but he never did.

Four. The main suspect for a long time had been your uncle. He'd been sighted at the estate on the same night, he'd been negotiating a business deal on Viktor's behalf that went south due to his own doing. You'd testified against him regarding his violent tendencies after being subpoenaed by the court.

Other than that, you'd been kept out of the case till an accusatory finger so suddenly swung your way. And for some reason, that accusation halted all inquiry into Tobias as a suspect.

And five. Your alibi was paper thin. A club? Full of people who couldn't place you on location at the right time? No surveillance nor eyewitnesses?

This one makes you sigh. An alibi you couldn't even prove would have been the worst of it. That is, if you also didn't have an eyewitness directly placing you in the scene of the crime.

Your grandfather's butler, Robero, had claimed seeing you in the mansion, after explicitly telling you he had seen Viktor and a friend there. He'd hesitated, refusing to identify that friend but promising to reveal who it had been in court. Growing up, the hands around the homes you'd occupy were more of a guardian than your own grandfather had ever been.

You'd trusted the man, or at the very least, you hadn't expected him to betray you in that way.

That had been the first but most definitive nail in your coffin.

You rub your eyes again.

Are you even making sense?

God, you need some sleep.

You bring the laptop closer, pulling up Google maps.

Your eyes fall on Tony and you frown contemplatively.

"Tony," you call, and he gives you his attention as he continues his preparation. "You remember Robero Vim?"

"Yes."

"Do you know where he lives?" you ask, and if he's offended that you're presuming the help of all wealthy families somehow know each other he doesn't show it.

"Miss Katherine, you aren't asking in order to exact some form of revenge, are you?"

You pause, answering honestly, "I supposed not. I want to know why he lied."

"If I may say, would not the obvious answer be money?"

"Yes, but no matter how obvious the answer, I'd like to hear it from him." You'd been at court during this testimony and you'd been arrested on the spot. Robero had refused to meet your eye and you'd been hauled out of the courthouse kicking and screaming. The man had disappeared not long after that.

"Very well. May I?" he asks, coming over and gesturing to the pen and paper you have. He scribbles the address in neat cursive. "I know this only because Mister Kol looked into this himself."

You suppress a yawn as Tony returned behind the kitchen island.

"And what did he find?" Even if Robero had gone, he could've left a clue of where he was headed.

"As far as he told me. Nothing. The place, it seems, appeared empty."

"For how long?"

"He hadn't specified."

You type the address onto the map.

"Will you still be using that address?"

"I'll check it out myself," you confirm, magnifying the street. "Thanks, Tony."

You'd been canvassing the location and its surrounding area via digitally when the world shakes and your head shoots up, alert and awake.

"Ah, sorry sorry," Elena repeats, removing her hand from your shoulder. "Good morning."

You rub your eyes and your head, groaning, "Did I fall asleep?"

"Looks like it," Elena answers, gesturing to the papers on the dining table. "Please tell me you actually got some sleep and just woke up early for all this."

"I actually got some sleep and just woke up early for all this," you reiterate, and she frowns. "Is that coffee?"

You pass the island, which now housed closed serving containers that were lit at the bottom to keep the food warm, and you pour yourself a cup of coffee. Not your usual, but you take it black.

You relish your first sip.

"Where's your sling?" you ask.

Elena rubs her left shoulder, "It was annoying me."

"Oh yes, annoyance does trump functionality," you say.

"Uh, well, I figured I'd put it on later, mom," she explains. "I doubt walking around without it for a few hours is going to kill me."

You shrug a shoulder.

"What time is it?" you ask.

The sun is just rising.

"Seven thirty," she answers, "You know, oddly enough, I've been automatically waking up to Port Hill time. As if I want to be up this early."

You yawn as Elena stares at the island and the containers before moving to uncover them.

"No way, is this…?" Elena trails off, having peeked inside. "I thought I smelt eggs. And waffles. And oh my god, is that bacon?"

She opens each of the platters that Tony had prepared, and you watch as her eyes light up with glee.

"This is for us, right?" she asks.

You nod your confirmation, raising a brow, "Who else?"

"I don't know, maybe Tony had some visitors or something."

"Unlikely. Not with us around," you say, pulling out a plate and taking a portion of the eggs, bacon, and veggies. You sit back behind the laptop, thinking on what you'd last been doing before drifting off.

"So, I was thinking about what Kol said," Elena begins, also sitting at the dining table and clearing some files out of her way.

"About?"

"Your case."

"And?" you let some irritation show in your voice.

"Well, about that Damon guy. Kol had said he wanted to get rid of your uncle as much as you do."

"I don't think that's possible."

"It's not a contest, Katherine. If your uncle is gone, then he's gone, isn't he? It'd probably help to have some third party on your side. You know, when you want public to believe you're innocent."

"I already thought of that," you shrug.

"Really?"

You had. Thought of it.

But seeing as most of the officials on your case had been paid off, and anyone with the right set of morals in the justice system would forgo listening to a wanted fugitive, you just… well, you didn't have an answer to it.

Yet.

"Mhm," you agree without agreeing.

"So, we'll go find this guy? Get him to help us."

You wonder if she's asking this simply or if she has a plan of some sort. Even a private investigator looking to take down your uncle must have a price or a reason to be so determined.

"So, you would trust this guy's help based on one person that tells you he can help?"

"Well, no but… he and Kol are friends, aren't they?"

"Doesn't mean you don't do the research first."

"Well, yeah, but how are you even supposed to figure that out? Kol didn't exactly specify the reason."

"I've got a theory," you say arrogantly as you turn the laptop towards her. "News article on a report dating a good five years ago. Says here, there was an ambush against the FBI at one of the shipping warehouses in Richmond city which resulted in many casualties."

Elena tilts her head, chewing on her waffle.

"I'm willing to bet he knew someone who became a victim of that ambush."

"What makes you say that? How'd you even connect this news article to this guy?"

You shrug, "A hunch."

She glares at you for a moment and concludes, "Your uncle had something to do with that ambush?"

You tilt your own head, curious.

"And you somehow know about it."

You raise a brow.

"And you've connected the dots because Kol had said this Salvatore had an _in_ with the FBI, even if he isn't one."

"Hmm." You hum. That isn't you being unsure. That's you witnessing some of that quick thinking Elena possesses every now and then when she's paying attention.

"So, he must've lost someone and wants to get revenge."

"Uh huh," you narrow your eyes. That was the most probable situation. Or that's the conclusion you'd come up with anyways.

"And the evidence you mentioned having is exactly what he needs."

It's like she's reading your mind.

"So, am I right?" she concludes, waiting for your confirmation.

You don't give it but she persists.

"We _can_ get this guy to help us."

You roll your eyes, shrugging at her accurate, if not one-minded, trail of thought, "Well, yes."

You _can_ ask this Damon Salvatore for help, because he _does_ , if sincere, really have the best qualities to help you, and he _would_ , so far, be the better candidate with his connections, despite that he _had_ lied to you for your cooperation.

Really, the latter shouldn't be a problem, seeing as you are a glaring hypocrite in that department.

More importantly, did you have a better option?

Not likely.

You lick your lips, mostly by habit.

"But getting his cooperation isn't priority number one."

Elena helps herself to another serving of waffles and nods, "Going to your house is. Remind me again why?"

You poke at a steamed carrot.

"I've got to pick up a few things," you say, not elaborating.

"And they are?"

"Some clothes, shoes. And god, makeup. Please!" you say dramatically, only half joking to piss her off. It's been far too long and a good portion of you would appreciate the luxury.

"That's hardly worth going for," she says, looking like she doesn't believe that that's it. You had mentioned _finding_ evidence against your uncle there but going deliberately to pick up something would be a better purpose. Even if it is just makeup.

"I beg to differ."

"Seriously, Katherine."

She doesn't sound as exasperated as you'd hope, but you almost laugh aloud all the same.

"Well, there's also money. I don't plan on relying on the Mikaelsons forever," you shrug, continuing. "And maybe, sorta, kinda that evidence Salvatore's looking for."

The faster you have leverage on anyone, the better.

"The evidence?" Elena asks, incredulously, "It's just sitting in your house?"

"Please," you dismiss her disbelief, "this place has a hidden drug cabinet. Of course, it's also out of sight."

"Oh yeah, no, of course," she mumbles something about par for the course.

You chuckle to yourself as you get up to drop your plate in the sink.

"I'm going with you, by the way," she insists, beating you to the usual _"no you can't, yes I can,"_ argument.

"Did I mention you couldn't?" you ask innocently.

"You didn't have to," she says, also depositing her plate at the sink. "And we already know, I'd win that argument."

Even back at Port Hill, Elena has had a track record of forcing your hand. Was that a challenge?

You laugh at her confidence, conceding, "Alright. I do plan on going today, are you ready?"

You ask, looking at her fully clothed attire.

"Oh boy, am I ever," she exaggerates. "Field trip! How dangerous is this going to be, Ms. Frizzle?"

You're a wanted fugitive. You've been roaming in places unknown so far, but this? This is your house. Avoiding Tobias' eye is one thing, but you'll also have to watch out for the cops more diligently.

"Shouldn't be all that hard," you say with a nod, telling her to follow you. "We aren't leaving just yet, but I'll show you how we're getting there and where to meet up."

"Meet up?"

You lead her out of the kitchen, down the hall and the stairs, to the basement garage.

You flick the switch, and the lights come on dramatically one after the other.

Elena's jaw drops a slight at the three cars presented to her. You choose a key from the hooks and hold down the start button.

The dark blue Charger roars to life after two beeps. And then you turn it off.

"Holy crap," she looks to you. "These two… wow."

"Yeah, they're pretty great. But I didn't peg you for a car person."

"I'm not. I'd only be able to tell you what they are because," she pokes at her temple. "But who doesn't appreciate nice things?"

"That is true," you shrug, smiling. "Too bad we're trying to be inconspicuous here, so it's the nondescript sedan for our journey."

Elena only deflates a little, probably hoping to ride one of the impractically faster cars but seeing the logic.

"So, let's meet here in thirty," you say, glancing at your burner phone for the time. "I've just got a few things I need to get in order."

She nods, probably thinking of things she might need as well.

You watch Elena's retreating back for a long moment and wait till she rounds the corner before pulling the car door to the Charger open.

You don't hide the smirk that crawls onto your lips as you imagine Elena hearing the engine roar to life.

The garage door opens.

You hold your hand out the window.

With a wave at the panicked look on the younger girl's face, you speed off.


	13. Envy Is The Tax

**Chapter Thirteen: _Envy Is The Tax_**

 **A/N: Hellooo! Thanks for stopping by.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

 _"Envy is the tax which all distinction must pay."_

 _-Ralph Waldo Emerson_

"That bitch."

You could've sworn you heard Katherine laughing as the dark car bounded down the lake house driveway, out of view.

You'd immediately gone to get a key for one of the other vehicles—the plain sedan she'd mentioned, labeling it _inconspicuous_ —but it hadn't been until you sat at the driver's seat and turned the car on that you were reminded that you had no idea how to get to Katherine's house.

If she's even going there, that is.

You frown at the thought.

No, she's definitely going there.

Right now, you stand at the door of the study, huffing a breath as you had to run to get here.

What did you need? Ah yes, the laptop.

Yesterday had just been research. You learned quite a bit about Katherine's case, more so than how much the media had covered the beginnings of the case before you lost track; especially since, even to the public eye, all the important details had been tight lipped on the previously open case. Besides, you're pretty sure the news is more inclined to focus on the fanatical aspects of the case.

Makes for better headlines.

So yes, it had been research research _research_ yesterday. So much so, that you know the physical address of Katherine's house, and you know that it is approximately 23 minutes from Viktor's own—apparently without traffic, and you even know that Viktor's Estate is exactly 5.674 hectares, but what you don't know is how to get there.

You tap the keys on the laptop, and it starts. Once you get it going, you pull up a map, and type the address.

It buffers.

 _Goddammit._

Your right hand thumps against the desk much softer than you'd like.

This is a waste.

By the time you get this and get to the car and drive off, Katherine will be long gone. Granted, you're going where she's going so that shouldn't be much of a problem. A smug part of you wants to rub the fact that she didn't think you'd be able to follow her into her face in person.

When the map loads, you scroll through it, and memorize the route.

You basically run out of the study, burner phone in hand, and almost trample Tony over.

"Miss Elena?" Tony asks with concern. "Are you alright?"

He seems slightly disheveled for someone who's been well put together every time you see him. You guess that he's been gardening, what with the garden gloves and the pair of hedge scissors in hand. He isn't old, per say, but since it seems like no one else is here, you wonder how one man has the energy to do everything around here.

"Oh, I'm good, Tony. Sorry about almost running you over," you want to dismiss but then think better of it. "Actually. If I were to get in trouble. Like life threatening trouble, which number on this would I call? "

You show him the phone. You hadn't had time to ask Katherine who belonged to all these pre-loaded numbers, and you never know when you'll need them.

He looks at the screen when you show him the contact list.

"Any one of them will do."

"Any?" How many emergency numbers does one person have? "None of the numbers are for specific reasons?"

"Well, yes," he nods, "but in case of emergency, anyone will do."

For emergencies, you can name two off the top of your head: your mom and aunt Jenna. Neither are appropriate to help you as a running fugitive, let alone a worst situation, but you know for sure which one you'd call first.

"Can I ask who they are?"

He smiles, "On your device, this one right here is Ms Katherine. This other: Mr Kol. The rest are the Mikaelsons, as well as a couple numbers for some specialists."

"Specialists?"

He nods curtly, not looking like he'll explain.

You unconsciously mimic him, nodding. "Right. Okay, thank you."

You wave goodbye and if you thought he'd stop you; he doesn't do so.

Sitting behind the wheel, you're relieved that for once, you don't have to hot-wire anything.

Soon enough, you're driving out of the garage, down the paved driveway, through some wooded areas, and out into a highway.

 _This is weird._ You think. You can't remember the last time you'd been out by yourself. Since Jeremy's death, you'd been accompanied by one person or another. Usually aunt Jenna, and mostly, during the latter end of your trial, police officers.

You sigh at the thought, easily following the directions the map had laid out, despite some missing or odd road signs.

It takes a while to get to the city. A _long_ while.

You're tempted to make a stop, just to stretch or even use the bathroom, but the first time you thought to take the exit, there was a police cruiser behind another vehicle, and it spooked you.

You don't want to run into any cops.

Unlike Katherine, you aren't confident enough to weasel your way out of simply getting arrested. Especially if they probably already have an APB out on you.

When you turn onto a street that doesn't seem like any other street you'd been in before, you slow down. It's not quite like a forest, but tall, and for some reason, fancy fencing stretches down along the road. There's a gate, and then more fencing, before it ends with some trees and then another different kind of fence starts up again.

How much land did each neighbor have?

You frown a little. Growing up, you'd never really left Mystic Falls, and they did have that neighborhood on the west side of town that had extravagant property as well, so this isn't that alien, but this? This seems much bigger.

And sure, it hadn't looked all that small on the satellite map, but it hadn't looked _that_ big either. But then again, Viktor Pierce's house had 5.674 hectares of land, it only stands to reason that any other Pierce property would have about the same.

You wonder how nice the house is and whether Katherine lived in there all by herself. No father, dead mother, and no siblings from what you can gather. Granted, that apparently isn't where her family is.

Katherine may have been an only child, who lost her mother at the young age of thirteen and had an antagonistic relationship with her uncle (and even grandfather, if you'd be so bold as to guess), but you kind of envy her. Even with all that, its starting to look like she had something that resembled family. People she could rely on to help when the going gets tough. One Mikaelson may have left her on the bus, but another Mikaelson had also come to the rescue. That, and you wouldn't exactly mind living in a huge estate.

And its not just materialism for you. No, you figure these tall gates would more than likely keep out those nosy town folks that had been looking to see if you have that brother-murdering look in your eye. With that primarily in mind, you'd easily trade your parent's house in Mystic Falls for one of these properties.

Or maybe even just the fence.

You sit in the car, eyeing the gate that you're pretty sure is Katherine's.

Noting the camera for a moment, you drive down further. There's no way Katherine just walked in through the front door.

Tobias might be out of the country, but that didn't mean she could walk around _that_ freely. If there aren't any cops here now, they sure as hell would come instantly if they heard that either of you set foot in a familiar place.

Speaking of cops, you wonder where they are.

Lightly pushing the break, you notice the rear end of another car far into the forest-y gap between properties.

That Charger.

If you hadn't been going slow, you might've missed it.

You drive in as well, going between well grown trees and bushes, and you park beside the blue vehicle.

Once you realize that she isn't in there anymore, you wonder which way she went. Was there some super secret passage she had gone through or…?

Your eye lands on a specific tree. One of its branches reaches towards the tall fence, and if you were to bet on it, you'd say that's the most likely route she took. Though, climbing a tree? You snort. You can't picture Katherine doing that.

 _Shit,_ you mutter, and then take a deep breath to ready yourself. "Okay."

You've climbed trees before, that isn't the hard part—the hard part is getting down on the other side.

When you get to the top you pause, gazing at the area on the other end of the wall.

 _Holy shit. This place looks amazing._

From the pool, to the garden, to the pool house, and the shed, and the house.

No, scratch that, that's a fucking mansion.

Did you expect anything less? Maybe. But if you thought the lake house was nice, well, this takes the cake.

No wonder that fence is so high.

You can only guess what the other properties in this neighborhood looks like.

 _Alright, Elena. Stop drooling. Maybe try to find a way down._

When you manage to fall into a bush, your hand goes to your sore shoulder as it throbs at the pressure you've been putting it under.

 _Goddammit,_ you curse.

Making your way across the open yard is nerve wracking so you've pulled your hood up in case of cameras. It makes you think of Port Hill and that one escape night that led to Jules dropping Sage off the edge of the Silo. You shiver at the thought, pushing it from your mind.

You make it up the stairs of the stone deck, and up to the glass doors of the house. The first and the second door you try is locked, but the third one is open, and you figure that's probably where Katherine went through.

Though, where she went after that, you have no clue.

You've opened the doors to what looks like the den, or the living room, (something to that effect—you have a feeling this place has a lot of this room type) and you cautiously wander around, marveling at the interior. Not that you have an eye for these kinds of things, but it is a bit shocking how nice it is. And sure, she hasn't been here for a while, but man, is this place well kept.

Even though it doesn't seem like anyone is here at the moment, that last thought is the only thing stopping you from just shouting Katherine's name to get her attention. Even without the owner present, people visit frequently enough for it to be kept clean.

You go through rooms and bathrooms and bedrooms before you stand at one of the halls on the second floor, confused.

Where was Katherine? Had she left already?

"What the hell?"

You turn to see just who you were looking for.

"Katherine!"

" _Shhh_ , keep it down!"

Your brows furrow but you whisper, "No one's here?"

"Yes, there is. But he's sleeping. I don't even know why he's in here," she shakes her head, having mumbled the last bit. "How the fuck did you get here?"

"I followed you, duh," you say, smirking but she seems more irritated than amused.

She shakes her head, pushing you towards the stairs.

"Well, then let me follow you out. You shouldn't be here."

"Why?" you ask, your eyes look to the duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

"Neither of us should be here." She's not wrong. "How did you get in here?"

"The glass door at the back was unlocked."

"Okay, now go back there."

"What about you?"

"I'll be right there. Just go."

She passes the duffel to you. You frown when she basically pushes you down the stairs, and you have to comply as she disappears again.

With a huff you follow her instructions, walking down the hall to the den you remember coming into.

Seems like she got what she came for, if this bag was any indication. Clearly, she didn't need your help. Why are you here again?

Other than to get out of the lake house after being cooped up all of yesterday?

Well, no, that's not it. You may have waned a bit at the thought of confinement, but you're definitely still a homebody, if anything.

Maybe you just wanted to see how the other side lived. Even if only a glimpse. Like you said, you only have two emergency numbers and neither of them are the I've-just-got-out-of-prison-come-save-my-ass kind of people, which for some reason comes hand in hand with the luxurious heiress life.

Not that that did her any favours; the two of you _did_ end up in the same place, no matter how different it seems your lives had been.

This might feel redundant but you're not… jealous. Okay, maybe a little, but only on the surface. You've only had the direct animosity of your parents and so-called friends _after_ Jeremy's death. You can't imagine, from what you've seen, dealing with that negativity day in and day out from your uncle or grandfather, or even from some of the Mikaelsons to an extent. You like nice things sure, but that doesn't seem like a good enough trade for you.

 _What are you even going on about, Elena?_ you ask yourself, thinking on the sudden tangent in your head.

With a deep sigh, you turn to the open floor-to-ceiling panel doors and look outside.

It looks cool outside as the clouds have covered the sun enough to set in a nice breeze for the day.

"Hey!"

You turn, your heart leaping up your throat as a man comes from the hall, straight for you. You hadn't expected anyone to be awake. Katherine had said...

His long, dark locks frame his face in an attractive, unruly way, bouncing as he stops in front of you.

He's tall, handsome, and he looks at you as if he's found something he'd lost for so long.

"Katherine?"

Your lips part, and you're able to muster half an excuse before he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into a kiss.


	14. Lies In The Details

**Chapter Fourteen: _Lies In the Details_**

 **A/N: Here here.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

 _"The truth of the story lies in the details."_

 _-Paul Auster_

The sudden turn of events is disorienting.

You barely have time to register what's happening before his hand is on your neck, his lips hungerly moving against yours, and then you're ripped away from the invasive warmth.

"What the fuck?!"

You're thankful Katherine's hand is gripping your arm because you could've honestly fallen over from your confusion. She hisses this and you see the tall man shake out of his daze.

"Whoa. Katherine?" his eyes dart between the two of you but he stops, a realization coming to his features. "Your twin? So that kid..."

This guy knows about you.

You don't see her face, but Katherine's fingers wrap tighter around your arm and she pushes you an inch back.

"I don't know what you mean."

He frowns, narrowing his eyes for a second before laughing, "Ha, you're funny. You two look exactly alike."

Katherine shrugs a shoulder but she's still tense. You shake out of your daze, wiping your lips from the way he had kissed you.

"Why are you here, Jackson?" she asks him, "Where's your father?"

"Not here, don't worry. I was supposed to go with him, but we had a bit of an argument."

"About what?"

"You. You know he's looking for you, right?"

Looking for her? Was his father Tobias?

"How did you get out?"

Katherine glances around, "There wasn't anything on the news?"

"No. What'd you do, get someone else killed?" he chuckles.

You raise a brow at that.

"You know very well that I did not kill Viktor."

"Oh definitely," he says waving his hand. He smiles widely, charming and sweet, as he glances at you. "Aren't you going to introduce us, Katherine?"

Her answer is curt, "No."

You glance between Katherine and this guy. She's kind of hostile towards him even if he does seem… harmless.

"Oh, don't be like that," he reaches out, caressing Katherine's cheek as she merely turns away from his touch.

That doesn't seem to deter him.

"You're really going to ignore my question?"

"Answering your question isn't what I came here for."

"Your inheritance?"

Katherine watches him for a moment, "No."

"That bag?"

You glance at the black duffel over your left shoulder. You shift it, it's heavier than it looks.

"Who are you?" you take the initiative, moving Jackson's focused gaze from her. Besides, your curiosity has always gotten the better of you.

"See? Even she wants to know."

He pauses.

Then sighs.

Katherine's eyes are on you and you meet her gaze. It's like she's glaring; reprimanding you for initiating and you crack, opening your mouth to apologize to her but she rolls her eyes.

"Elena, this is Jackson Pierce. My cousin."

 _Cousin? But he'd kissed her… err, well, he'd kissed you._ It's not incest, not technically, but your face still scrunches up at the thought.

"Jackson, this is Elena," she continues. "My doppelganger."

"Doppelganger?" Jackson laughs. "You're sisters. Twins, by the look of it. You can't fool me. You were looking for your family last I checked."

Katherine clenches her jaw.

Jackson smirks.

"Even if she was," she says dismissively, "it wouldn't be any of your business, would it?"

He tilts his head. You can't read his face or even understand exactly what's going on, but he takes one look at Katherine's hand on your wrist and he leans forward.

Katherine steps back.

If you hadn't been nervous before, you are now.

"Nervous?" he taunts.

 _Yes._

But he isn't talking to you. You look at Katherine, her expression is steeled.

"You seem nervous. Would it hav—"

"Shut up, Jackson. We're leaving."

He steps in the way, "—e anything to do with your little habit of killing everything you touch?"

"God," she shakes her head, "if I could kill you with one touch, I'd be all over you."

"Mm," he smiles as you frown.

"Get out of the way," she demands.

"You haven't changed."

"Jackson, get out of the way."

"Or what?" he's amused, giving you a glance. "Tell me, Katherine, you trust this girl?"

He talks about you with disdain in his voice but directs his next question to you.

"Or you? You trust Katherine?"

You don't respond, though he doesn't even give you the time to do so.

"You don't even know what she's done—"

Katherine's hand is quick, moving in a snap to meet her open palm with Jackson's face, but somehow, he's quicker.

He catches her wrist.

"You really haven't changed."

"Let go," Katherine says, tugging.

"Or what?" he repeats.

She stops pulling, "You're hurting me."

You try to step forward but, similarly, Katherine still has your dominant arm in a vice grip, and the other? Well, now that you've had the duffel on your shoulder for a while, you regret opting to leave your sling at the lake house.

From another room you hear what sounds like the front door, slamming shut.

"Jackson!" someone calls out.

All three heads turn to the sound.

Your first instinct is to run.

Katherine pulls her wrist again, but Jackson won't let up.

"Let. Go."

She hisses this threateningly, but he refuses.

The smile you had classified as "charming" earlier has quickly become annoying. He draws his lips into a lopsided grin as he jerks Katherine towards him, which releases you from her grip.

Your mind works quickly.

 _We need to leave._

Dropping the bag down you attempt to help Katherine from Jackson, pushing him back to no avail.

"Let go of her."

You try not to make too much noise, but you are hyper-aware of the fact that there are footsteps heading this way.

You hear Jackson mutter something along the lines of, "Unlikely." And before you can even attempt to save your own skin, a man walks through the threshold of the den.

"Jackson!"

A tall man stands there. There's a gun holster on his hip, his black hair is trimmed but you can still see the curls and the whites in it. He wears a suit. From his posture and his hair, he looks just a bit older than the Gilberts.

But more importantly, he looks like a federal agent.

Fear grips your heart, but Jackson is distracted, and Katherine takes that as the opportunity to twist her hand and pull her knee up to kick him in the groin.

He dodges it, and she kicks him away instead.

He falls a few feet away when he loses balance, but he looks disturbingly gleeful.

"Katherine!" You grip her arm, ready to run, especially since the man has yet to draw his weapon.

You tug, but she doesn't budge.

"Katherine?" The older man's gaze looks from her, to the guy on the ground. And then to you. His eyes narrow. "What are you doing here? How did you get here?"

"Markos?" her disbelief is heavily mixed with confusion, "What are you—"

She stops herself from mimicking his question, opting for something else. The implication eludes you at first, since you don't have any context, so you stay silent, trying to kick back the rush of adrenaline telling you to get the hell out of here.

 _Why are we still here?_

"Why are you looking for Jackson?"

"He works for my father, " the younger man supplies, smug. "Oh, come on, you didn't think he would quit that salary just because you went to jail and Viktor kicked the bucket?"

You flinch at his flippant tone.

"You work for him now?" Katherine asks. "You're his head of security?"

"I've been working for your family for as long as I remember, " the older man answers.

"But for Tobias? You were the one…" she stops herself before saying, "Why would you work for him?"

If you knew any better, you'd say she sounds a bit... betrayed.

"Money! What do you think?" Jackson inserts, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. It's unnecessary; his comment and the way he's wiping off nothing from his pants. You're pretty sure this place is completely spotless.

Katherine pauses only for a second.

"So, you're Tobias' new head of security. He's currently looking for me and you've found me," she lays out. "Now what?"

"Now you come with us. Isn't that obvious?" Jackson says. "The others will be here soon."

With her cousin blocking the door to the outside and Markos standing at the doorway, you and Katherine are trapped.

"You're an idiot if you think we're coming with you," Katherine condescends.

"We?" Jackson's laugh is directed at you, "You two must've really hit it off in prison."

"Oh yeah, definitely," Katherine interjects, facetiously. She nods her head to the side, "Come on, Elena. Let's get out of here."

Before you can even follow, Jackson easily steps in her way, physically stopping her tracks. "No. You're the idiot if you really think I'd let you leave. You're not going anywhere."

"What are you going to do? Hand me to your father?"

"You really think I'd just let you go like that?"

If he was anyone else and if he was looking at her with even a slightly different expression, one could think that almost sounds romantic.

"I know you think he wants you dead."

"He put out a hit on me, I'm pretty sure I don't just _think_ he does."

"Well," he rolls his eyes in thought, "Okay fine, if you don't want to meet with him, I won't force you to, but either way, you aren't leaving here."

Was that his decision to make anyways?

You glance around, since you're basically invisible, to see if you can spot another exit. If you're quick, you feel like you and Katherine can both knock Markos off his feet, he isn't too old, but he isn't young either. Though, there's probably a reason why he's still working as security.

Head of security, no less.

The thought makes you second guess trying to force your way out of here.

"No," she sustains, "I think you should move out of the way."

You'd be less weary if Katherine wasn't always so level-headed. Sometimes you'd really appreciate some mutual panic.

Jackson doesn't budge.

Your brows furrow when you see that Katherine is reaching behind her back for something.

"For your sake, I highly suggest you move," she threatens.

Not seeing what she's reaching for, Jackson leans forward, but then stops.

He takes one step back, showing his palms at the gun Katherine has pointed at him. The same gun Sierra had pulled on you days ago.

"Katherine," Markos calls, coming closer.

"You wouldn't," Jackson says, eyeing her. "You don't have it in you."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"Oh, but I am," he eases up, putting his hands down.

"Katherine," Markos calls again.

Jackson smirks.

"Say, Elena," he addresses. Though you've been mentioned, you've been silent for most of these engagements. Mostly because you have no idea what's going on and for once, you're more eager to leave this place than to ask questions. "Your last name wouldn't happen to be Gilbert, would it?"

You frown. Why did that matter at this moment?

"Tell me, have you two had the _talk_ yet?"

"The talk?" you repeat in question.

"Shut up, Jackson, and move out of the way!" Katherine adjusts her grip.

"No need to be rash," Markos interjects. "Katherine, put the weapon down."

"Markos, where's everyone else? If I haven't been clear, I want Katherine here to know she isn't going anywhere." He taunts, glancing at the gun, "I bet you can't even hit the broad side of the moon."

Katherine tilts her head.

"Jackson, stop it." Markos reprimands, "I taught her myself. Trust me, she can."

Jackson's smile falters as he looks at the older man. In a swift motion, he grabs the gun and charges forward. There's a loud, deafening _bang_ and an exchange that looks like Katherine's dodged a blow, but you can't really see from this angle. She ends up on the ground, Jackson having, maybe unintentionally because you can't imagine he knew, hit her torso.

"Argh!" Katherine places a hand to her side.

"Shit," Jackson shakes his hand, massaging it. He looks down at her with confusion, confirming your guess.

You step forward, whether to charge at Jackson or to help her, you aren't too sure.

Markos stops you, holding his gun up, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

You pause, eyeing the firearm.

"What's wrong with you?" Jackson asks Katherine.

She glares up at him without responding.

You're pretty close to her, but in a room full of guns, you don't want to the idiot that decides to make any sudden movements.

 _Fuck it._

Apparently, you are the idiot that makes a sudden move.

You try to step around Markos, but he grabs your bad shoulder and holds you back. You grimace.

"That's cute," Jackson comments, "But unfortunately, you aren't going to be with us for long. Markos? What are you waiting for, shoot her!"

You look up at the older man, fearing for a second. You hadn't thought of this. Sure, you could be of use helping Katherine, but the people looking for her don't have any reason to keep you around. And from what you know, Katherine's life seems to be filled with people who don't have a problem taking a life.

You frown at Markos meaningful stare as he holds up his gun, gripping the trigger. He's slow about it, and you mean only push his wielding hand, but he jerks it away like its been knocked back and he steps away.

"Oh, for Christ-sake—" Jackson's curse is cut off as Katherine kicks his shins and he falters.

In a flash Markos is at his side and Jackson drops to the ground as the older man puts his hand down, holstering his gun.

Markos has knocked him out.

"Alright, that's about enough," he looks to the two of you, and you blink a little.

 _What?_

"You need to go, Katherine. Before the others get here."

"But you're the head of security," you say without thought.

Not to look a gift horse in the mouth but he's just letting you go? Tobias' head of security? Wasn't it specifically his job to hand Katherine in?

Markos shakes his head, as older, wiser eyes meeting yours and Katherine's, "Unfortunately, if you stay, that won't stop word from getting to Tobias that I'm not unbiased towards you."

Unbiased? You observe the two as Markos stoops down.

"Are you okay?" he asks her.

Her hand doesn't have a hint of blood on it when she holds it out.

"She was stabbed weeks ago," you explain.

"Weeks ago? And still?"

You nod, kneeling as well. "You're okay, right?"

She sighs, probably sick of dealing with this particular injury.

"Okay," Markos looks at his watch, "Like I said, you two need to go."

You help her up.

"Be safe," Markos advises, giving her the gun she'd brought, and affectionately placing a hand on top of your counterpart's head like he's speaking to a child.

Katherine hasn't said anything, and she still doesn't, instead biting her lip and nodding.

You pick up the duffel bag.

Markos nods to you, and you follow Katherine out the doors.

"What the hell was that?" you ask once you're both away from the mansion and across the field.

"What do you mean?"

"Them. Jackson. He tried to kiss you."

Katherine chuckles, humorlessly, "Right. Thanks for that by the way."

"No. I—" you shake your head at the infamous question-dodging and noting that she isn't leading you to the tree you'd gone over. "Where are we going?"

"The back door," she's puzzled.

 _Back door?_ "Right."

"How did you get in? Did you climb the fence?" she almost laughs.

"No," you say a little too quickly.

On the drive back, you take your respective cars. You still have the duffel and you place it in the passenger seat of the sedan.

Before the research, you'd always wondered the details to Katherine's case. You'd read the police report, sure, but it looks a lot like those reports don't have _all_ the details. Not by a long shot.

Jackson? Markos? In those files, they'd just been names or relative titles, but here, in the flesh, it was all so real. You would've never guessed that "Tobias' son" was some maniac obsessed with his own cousin. Or that Markos "Viktor's head of security, who's worked in the family since before Viktor's second child, Tobias, was even born" would have such a… parental relationship with Katherine.

You were right about being jealous. At least you can admit that now. You don't blame her, it's not exactly her fault, but it seems even an orphan like her had a father-type figure growing up. While you, with two living parents, end up with neither and a dead brother to boot.

You sigh, following the flash blue of the Charger out to the road.


	15. How Great A Task

**Chapter Fifteen: _How Great A Task_**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Katherine**

-x-x-x-

 _"He who tells a lie is not sensible of how great a task he undertakes; for he must be forced to invent twenty more to maintain that one."_

 _-Alexander Pope_

You're full.

Tony's supper was delicious, but you'd been the only one eating.

For some reason, Elena hadn't shown up and you figure she'd fallen asleep since missing a meal was basically sacrilegious to her. You'd checked her room, but she hadn't been there.

"What are you doing?" you ask, finding the younger girl in the study.

She freezes, head snapping to you, as she stops rummaging through the duffel bag you'd gotten. You remind yourself to leave it in the car.

"Umm…" she trails off and you raise a brow. "Don't look at me like that. You literally risked getting caught for this stuff. I have every right to be curious."

Your expression doesn't change, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Uhh," she drawls out, looking to the bag. "I don't know. Cash. Clothes. This laptop. Is this where that video is?"

Answering the question without really answering? Ha! That's your move.

That laptop is already open in front of her, and other than her genuine confusion, she pretends like she hasn't been trying to figure out your password.

"It's 08—capital, JT63RX."

She pauses only for a second, surprised that you've willingly given her the password, before you mock her.

"The password."

"Right."

She types it in, and the desktop loads.

There are five files on the screen and, other than the taskbar at the bottom, nothing else. Elena tries to open one of the files, only to find it password protected.

"So, where is it?"

"Here," you say, holding a thumb-drive between slender fingers. At your house, you'd shoved Elena back to the den in order to retrieve this thing, consequently leaving her clueless to Jackson's presence.

You shiver. To be fair, you thought he was still asleep on the second floor.

You hand it to her, and she opens the video file you direct her to.

The picture is dark, somewhat grainy, but visibly eligible. It's night-time. The camera recording is placed at a high elevation and points to the area outside of an industrial warehouse. There's a reflection in the back that indicates water, and a few giant silhouettes of ships and crates.

You've watched this video a hundred times already and you know what's going to happen.

The picture might be clear but the sound is shit. Despite that, you hear the loud chaos of guns firing nearby. There are some flashes from the few windows of the warehouse. More shots. And then silence.

After a long moment, shadows stretch out across the pavement before a few men walk into the frame. Yellow light illuminates the area, and the men walk away from the camera with weapons in hand. Two men drag a man across the concrete.

He's struggling.

By this, you can tell Elena wants to look away. She doesn't.

A van pulls up in the distance. One of them leans down and speaks to the man before knocking him around until he stops struggling and the men throw him in through the back.

They pile in.

The man who'd leaned down turns around with another, walking back; this time facing the camera.

They stop as a car comes in under the camera, mostly out of view and the other man open the door for the first. The one being ushered in, clearly the leader, pauses, checking around.

He stops when he stares right at the camera filming. Calmly, he points to it and the other man nods, before they enter the vehicle and presumably speed off.

You pause, rewinding it and pausing again to where the man is standing in the clearest frame. Staring at you. Your blood boils.

You hate him.

"Who is that?"

"Tobias," your voice lowers to a growl. She eyes the person in the video, no doubt remembering what the man you call uncle, looks like. "This took place at a harbour near Richmond. That article I showed you? That happened on this night. The FBI were ambushed, and that man they took was some politician."

"Was?"

You nod, "The authorities found him days later at a hotel in the city. Tobias was named a suspect, but he cleared his name, claiming he was out of the country."

"But clearly he isn't," she glares at the still frame.

"Clearly."

"If there was an investigation and a case. How did you get this but not the police?"

Good point. But you don't say that out loud. Since Tobias saw the camera, its footage had been cleared when the police investigated it. It had been erased. Thing is, nothing is ever permanently erased. Not if you know the right people.

But you don't share that in so many words.

"I have my ways," you say, cryptically.

She frowns. "But no, really."

You shrug.

Elena sighs, thinking better than to repeat herself. Insanity _is_ doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

She's learning.

"So, now what?"

"Now we make a few copies and distribute it to the press."

"Really?"

"No, dummy," you roll your eyes. Of course not. "We make a few copies and keep it safe. This is leverage. I need it if our help requires a little incentive."

"Our help? You mean, that Salvatore guy."

You plan on finding him. Logically, it'd be stupid for you to deny an advantageous hand. It's never bad to have too many resources on your proverbial dime. You know very well what kind of damage a video like this can do. It might put Tobias in jail, but it doesn't exonerate you. First things first.

You nod, skipping the verbal confirmation.

"Come on, sharing time is over," you flip the laptop close. "I know you're hungry."

You hear her stomach and she pauses, "How'd you know?"

"It's well past Port Hill's supper time," you point to the clock on the wall. "Of course, you're hungry."

-x-x-x-

You run your teeth over your bottom lip. It's the next day and you're on your way to Richmond to find Damon Salvatore.

"What was Jackson talking about?"

You almost wince.

Briefly glancing at her, you make sure you pay attention to the road. "Jackson? The threatening towering was kind of distracting. You'd have to be more specific."

You have a feeling what she wants to ask but she steers the topic, beating around that bush she likes to kick at before she inevitably implodes with whatever pent up curiosity has her brain firing.

Just another day with Elena.

The only difference?

She's asking about Jackson.

 _Fine line, Katherine, fine line._

"He's cute." Is what you hear, and you glare.

"No," your face contorts. The thought physically hurts your stomach. "No, he isn't."

"See? You weren't even listening."

Your eyes narrow.

"I asked what was up with him. He was acting like…"

"He's obsessed with me?" You'd insert a _Who isn't?_ and an _I'm the center of everyone's obsession_ joke, but this was _Jackson_. Even jokingly, you'd just end up choking.

"Yeah. So, he wants you, I mean, technically, it's not incest but—"

"Let me stop you right there."

"What I mean is, is he always violent?"

You drive with your right hand and her gaze is on the red marks on your wrist. You don't bruise easily and the thought of it annoys you more than anything.

What are you supposed to say to that? No? Obviously, it's a yes. Hadn't she seen what his father did to that man just yesterday? You know no better example of "Like father, like son" than them, and you know the Mikaelsons, so that's saying something.

"Let's not talk about him..." you say, and leaving it at that.

Elena observes you for a long moment making you uneasy. She speaks, reading your silence.

"Katherine, has he…" she pauses for a while, her thoughts no doubt going deeper and deeper into that rabbit hole, "Has he hurt you?"

You don't answer. You're trying to focus on the road. There's plenty of cars that you don't want to be running into, but Elena's words make you visibly flinch.

She gasps quietly but you hear it even over the cars.

"Katherine."

You glance at her and her face slowly morphs from confused into horrified. She's reading between the lines.

Wait.

"Katherine?"

Oh no. Make that, more like between your silences.

Is she assuming what you think she's assuming?

"He's..." there's an anger that flashes onto her face but she softens when she talks, "Katherine, I'm so sorry."

You lick your lips, and blink at the road.

No.

You'd never let it get that far. The worst thing Jackson's done is kiss you, and the last time he'd done it, you had made sure he knew to keep his distance. And he had. Something the creep had obviously forgot about in the last year you've been gone.

Elena has yet to ask the question she's really wanted to. Would she just assume that _that_ was what Jackson meant about her not even knowing what you'd done?

Are you going to correct her?

"Katherine, I..."

Rolling your eyes, you say, "I guess crazy runs in the family."

She blinks at you, trying to gauge your expression and your body language.

You sigh away the tension in your shoulders.

"Crazy," she scoffs, hesitant. "Like Tobias."

"Oh, and Isobel," you add.

That woman is plenty crazy.

She stops and then says, "I wouldn't be opposed to throwing Miranda and Greyson in there too."

A scoff of your own escapes your lips.

You have no love lost for your cousin, but god, she's assuming he's _raped_ you before.

Do you _want_ to correct her?

You bite your lip this time.

The answer?

An astounding no.

You don't even feel bad.

-x-x-x-

"What are we doing here?"

You've arrived at the city, but the car is parked on the side of the street with its engine turned off.

"Waiting."

Elena sighs. "You said that 20 minutes ago."

"Well, clearly, we're still waiting."

"But for what? I thought we were going to Salvatore Investigations."

Your eyes survey the road, but your attention is really on a driveway two apartments down.

"Katherine."

You look back to Elena, and she raises her brows. You do the same, but your head turns back to the apartment without another excuse. She needs some patience, that's for sure.

Many people have been passing by, going in and out of the apartment, but the person stepping out now is who you've been waiting for.

You pull the black baseball cap on your head lower as you get ready to go after her.

"Stay here," you instruct Elena. She protests but you're already slamming the door shut before you even hear her.

The blonde woman is walking towards the driveway, heading behind the apartment.

When she turns to the parking lot to the right you follow her, inevitably out of sight from Elena. You see her duck into a silver car.

Weaving through other parked vehicles, you quickly round the car and get into the passenger seat.

The barrel of a gun pokes your side once you're in and you straighten, pulling your hands up.

"Who are you and why are you following me?"

"Hey, Freya," you say sheepishly and turn to her. You'd expect she was ready, but you still hope she doesn't pull the trigger.

"Katherine?" she's shocked. "What the hell are you doing here?"

You chuckle, partially nervous, "Would you believe how abhorrent the service on prison buses are?"

Her shoulders drop in relief shaking her head at your comment.

"Uh, could you maybe put that away?"

Blue eyes cautiously look around first before doing what you ask.

She pulls you into a hug and asks, straight to the point, "What do you need?"

"You know what happened?" you inquire, hoping she knows about the crash. From what you can tell, Port Hill hasn't publicized the incident. No news stations or articles. Nor, have they warned the public about the dangerous criminals now roaming the streets. Ah, politics.

"The crash?" she raises a brow. "How do you think Kol found you?"

 _Oh. Of course, she did._ "Wow, and he definitely took all the credit. Just so you know."

She rolls her eyes, "Typical of him not to mention me."

"Wait, does that mean you also found Care?" you ask, hopeful.

Freya nods, "She got arrested with a few others."

You breathe in your relief. You were right. She isn't dead.

 _Thank god._

"What's Kol going to do?"

"Not sure. But you know Kol. He'll get her out of there."

If she means quiet and subtle, or loud and forceful, she doesn't elaborate. With Kol, it could go either way, but the main thing is that he would find a way.

You nod, "Okay, well, please tell me that you know where Robero Vim is."

"I'm sorry, Kat. I can't."

In Port Hill, Freya had frequently visited her sister.

She was the only sibling Rebekah willing let visit her. Subsequently, Freya had also seen you and Caroline, and some, if not most, of your conversations surrounded the death of your former guardian and grandfather. Viktor may not have liked you much, and it might have something to do with Mikael favouring his first born, but Freya has always had a way with powerful people, and Viktor Pierce was no exception.

After "Agent Salvatore" tried to visit Robero to confirm what you alleged, and promptly came up empty handed, you'd asked Freya to keep an eye on the former butler.

She had found him, of course; Freya is the best of the best, but he'd easily disappeared again.

Clearly, something smelt of foul play.

Not many butlers have the skill set to stay so out of sight and off-grid. Not in this day and age, anyway.

"You think he's dead?" you ask, thinking the worst.

"That, or your uncle is hiding him. Hiding him well, I might add."

Robero is your best lead right now. If he can retract his testimony, if you can somehow prove that you hadn't been at the mansion the night Viktor died, and Robero finally told the truth—that you're innocent—then, you would be one step closer to clearing your name.

"So, there's nothing you can do?"

"I'll keep looking. But like I said, I don't want to get your hopes up."

"Heh, impossible," you say, despite yourself. You _know_ better than to hope, but if anyone can find him, your money's on Freya Mikaelson.

You glance at the time.

Little Miss Impatient Gilbert has been waiting long enough.

"I better go," you dismiss but Freya reaches out.

"Wait. Kol told me who you're with."

You pause, a little surprised.

"He was confused as to why you would bring her along with you."

"Why would he—"

"Oh, come on, Kat. I love you, but we all know you rarely get attached, if ever. Doesn't matter if she's you sister."

You run your tongue between your lips, realizing, not for the first time, that you need to break this habit. If you ever had a tell, well, this was it.

"Does she know?"

Your gaze drifts from hers.

Freya sighs. She's literally the only other person who does.

"Are you going to?"

"I don't know," you say truthfully, but you also already do. It's inevitable.

"You do," Freya squints a little, speaking to you like the older sisterly figure that she is. "Why else would she still be around? You know what you're going to say?"

"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."

Her expression is a mix of understanding and pity. You don't want it, and she knows that, choosing not to verbalize her thoughts.

"Was that everything?" she asks.

"Yes," you say but think better of it. "Actually, can you do one more thing."

"Sure."

"I have this address." You find a pen and use one of the tissues from the Kleenex box on her dashboard to write it down. "291 Warrenville Road. There's about a hundred places with this address but I managed to find the name of the owner I was looking for. Thing is, that's _all_ I could get."

She nods as you pass it for her to look at.

"If you can narrow down a location, that would be amazing."

"This, I can do."

You push the door open, "Thank you."

Freya gives you that reassuring smile of hers, waving goodbye and promising to contact you once she has something.

-x-x-x-

 **A/N: I'd just like to say; I don't hate Jackson Kenner via Originals. I know a bunch of people do, but the guy was a solid character for the most part who got hate for ship reasons. For this story though, feel free. He's umm, pretty shitty in this universe tbf.**

 **So, umm, anyone care to take a shot in the dark here? What do you think Katherine's hiding?**

 **Anywhoo, see y'all next chapter!**


	16. People You Wouldn't

**Chapter Sixteen:** _ **People You Wouldn't**_

 **A/N: Listen, I tried get this posted on Friday but it wasn't quite done. Thanks for the feedback Missycole23 and Lee! And yes, Missy, the thing she was going to explain at the end of** _ **Run**_ **is exactly what Kat is hiding right now. Heh, hopefully she'll tell Elena soon.**

 **Anyhow, enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

" _Learn to work with people you wouldn't go to lunch with."_

 _-Garry Marshall_

" _And that was another hit from one-oh-nine, point five FM!"_

You groan as the car jerks and you hit your head on the window.

There's a chuckle and you turn blurry eyes to the person on the driver's seat.

"Katherine?" you identify, looking around. "I fell asleep? Damn."

You rub your eyes as the car stops.

"Are we there yet?"

"I'd say so," she looks out the window, slowing the car to a stop and looking at a building across the street. You peer at it, seeing a regular two-story office building that definitely leases out to more than just Salvatore Investigations.

"Are we going?"

"If you're ready," she says.

"Why wouldn't I be? We're just talking to him, right?"

As you say that, she pulls out that gun you keep forgetting she carries around.

"What're you doing?"

"It's a precaution. You never know."

True, but if having that on her makes her feel better, it makes you more uneasy. You frown disapprovingly, choosing not to comment as she checks the magazine in it.

"Where did you go earlier?" you ask instead.

"Met with a friend," she answers, absentmindedly. She probably expected you not to listen and follow, but you'd fallen asleep somehow.

"And?"

She shrugs. "Let's go. I'm sure Mr. Salvatore would like to hear what we have to say."

She gets out before you do, and you sigh at the dismissal. Why is she so hot and cold? It isn't like she answers everything you ask her now, but ever since you sat in this car, she's been more silent than usual.

No. More like, ever since Jackson had ambushed you two, she's been more withdrawn than usual.

You don't expect her to talk about it, but she'd been fine till Jackson. Well, Katherine-fine anyways. She didn't _say_ anything, but her silence is confirmation enough that you can fill in the blanks, and you want nothing more than to…

He's handsome, sure, but a knife to his neck would…

You shake away the violent thought before it forms, but if you ever had a reason to be convicted for murder, it'd be something along these lines.

 _Morbid much._

You always have maintained that you aren't a killer.

Maybe it isn't as impossible as you thought.

 _Fuck._

You shake your head again, pulling up your hood as you follow Katherine. She glances at you with a raised brow, unfazed at the way you lag behind a little. You offer up a smile that she doesn't see because she's already turned her head.

Right. You set your mind back to your task at hand.

You pass by a few people on their way out of their office as you climb the stairway to the second floor. Katherine finds the tinted glass door to Salvatore Investigations, and stops at the hours posted on it.

 _9am – 6pm_

You check your phone.

Damn. You're an hour too late.

She reaches for the knob and, much to your surprise, turns it before you can grab her attention.

"What are you doing?" you hiss.

"Going in, obviously."

"They're closed, and that's trespassing, fyi."

"If the door's open, not really."

"That's not how that works."

Katherine's face scrunches up in annoyance as she shrugs you off, pushing the door open.

"Katherine!" you hiss again. You look down both ends of the hall to check for eyewitnesses before following her. "We're here to talk to the guy. If he's not even here—"

"Of course, he's here, otherwise the door would be locked."

You shake your head, because that's completely besides the point.

She stops at the empty reception desk, looking at the items on top of it; a landline phone, pens, notepads, and a few files. The place isn't small, but it isn't exactly huge either. You can see three different doors down the small hall.

 _So, there isn't just one private investigator in this place,_ you conclude.

You wonder why Katherine doesn't call out to anyone if she's so sure that someone's here, but you follow her lead on staying mum.

Well, you know what they say; If you can't dissuade them from trespassing, might as well join them in the search.

As Katherine turns to the door on the right to see if there's anyone in, you go to the door on the left opening it to find an office.

A man rummaging through the desk drawer stands up straight.

He looks at you with furrowed brows for a good second, pulling his earbuds off slowly before saying, "Katherine Pierce?"

"Not quite," Katherine says, stepping from behind you. "That would be me. And who might you be?"

The name plaque on the desk reads, " _Damon Salvatore."_

Katherine would recognize him, so this man isn't Damon. He also isn't sitting behind the desk, which _mildly_ implies that this office doesn't belong to him.

So, if this isn't Damon, then who is he?

"What the hell is this?" the man demands, blue eyes moving from you and Katherine.

She tilts her head, "What? You've never seen twins before?"

The man frowns deep, reaching into the drawer.

"Nuh uh uh," Katherine warns, suddenly holding her gun in her hand. "Don't even think about it."

He glances at whatever he was about to pick up in the drawer before raising his hands.

"You're looking for Damon?" he asks.

"Let's start with who you are, why don't we?"

"Is that really necessary?" He points to the gun.

"You tell me. Last time I confronted someone, I ended up with these," she motions to the marks on her wrist.

The mere thought of who inflicted it to her angers you. Not that you could've done anything… before you met her, but for these ones? You'd been there. You should've done something.

"Okay," the man inches away from the desk and whatever weapon he'd been eyeing. "My name is Zach Salvatore. Damon's my nephew."

"His uncle?" you voice, surprised. Neither of you have a good track record with people who have sibling relationships with your parents. Isobel? Tobias? Even Jenna. It's only logical that you feel weary of anyone with the mantle _aunt_ or _uncle._ Right?

No, maybe that's a bit irrational but you feel it, nonetheless.

The man nods, "I own Salvatore Investigations. He works for me. So, if you have any questions for him, you can ask me."

"No offence but I barely trust your nephew," Katherine says, "and I'd rather talk to him."

"He's not here right now."

"Call him then," she gestures to the phone on the desk.

Zach shakes his head, "Look. Even after you refused to work with him, he's—"

"You mean, when he lied about working for the FBI?" Katherine shifts her weight, "Don't make that sound like it was my fault. You know impersonating a federal officer is a felony, right?"

"Of course, I do," he sighs, deciding to try a different approach. "But that's not what you came here for."

"No."

"I'm just saying, even after that, he's still looking into your case."

"Because Katherine has something he wants," you interject.

"Yes. And _he_ has something _you_ want. A witness. Someone to testify any of your findings for your innocence to be fact. And he'll do that."

He sounds awfully confident that Damon is going to do exactly that.

"If you're the one in charge," Katherine inquires, "why didn't _you_ come to Port Hill?"

Kol had also mentioned working on cases with Damon, hadn't he? The guy seems to be focused mostly on Tobias.

"I have other cases to attend. And believe it or not, getting Tobias is personal for him. For all of us, actually."

You picture that video in that shipping yard—the grainy yellow lighting of a man beating someone helpless to a pulp. You can imagine Tobias has made numerous enemies, but you wonder what would make a private investigator so keen on taking him down that Damon would be willing to make innocent a convicted murderer.

"How's that?" your counterpart asks before you can.

"May I sit?" Zach inquires. When he doesn't get a response he continues, "Hey, if we're going to have a long conversation, it's best if we all sit down."

Katherine consents, waving her hand to let him sit at the couch on the side.

You pull up one of the chairs from in front of the desk and Katherine leans on the cabinet near the door, refusing to lower the gun.

"Alright. Let's talk."

Zach eyes the weapon but doesn't say anything. You want to tell her to at least lower it, if not put it away—this isn't exactly an ideal way to start a partnership—but you don't say anything, choosing not to sound like you're undermining her in front of a stranger.

"This video that you have," he starts. "It's real?"

"Yes."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"It is. I've seen it myself," you confirm, realizing the lack of merit your words have as soon as it leaves your mouth.

"No offence, kid, but I don't trust either of you."

"The video was taken on April 21st, five years ago," Katherine details. "It was on a port near Richmond beside a warehouse and the bay. Tobias and a few men ambushed a crew of FBI agents, taking a politician—a Mr. Kenneth Knowles—they were transporting, and killed him. The video shows them taking the man clear as day, hours before he was found dead."

"Everything you said was mentioned in the papers. Anyone could've read those and come up with this idea," Zach argues.

That's true. You had read the exact same things on the article she'd shown you the other day.

"The politician, Mr. Knowles?" Katherine says, unfazed but his doubt maintains, "He worked for a high-profile criminal. The FBI turned him into an informant, but when Tobias found out, they tried to get Knowles to a safe location. Put him into witness protection."

No, of course she forgot to mention that part to you. Sometimes you wonder if she enjoys catching you as surprised as the people she's revealing her information to.

Zach listens, but it's a long beat before he speaks, seemingly convinced. "So, you do have it."

"Of course I do."

"If you have it, show me."

Katherine shakes her head. "That's not how this is going to go."

The elder man sighs.

"Okay, look." Katherine says, lowering her weapon and folding her arms, "My uncle is responsible for a lot of things he's been weaseling his way out of. I've suggested other incriminating things that could put him away, but Damon insists on this particular event. You were saying something about this being personal."

"Yeah." Zach nods, sizing both of you up once more. "You're right. Tobias Pierce is responsible for a lot of things but nailing him ambushing federal officers and kidnapping a politician just before the man is found dead at a hotel room could put him away for a long long time." He hesitates but ultimately concedes, and opens up, "I guess we can't really work together if we don't trust each other."

Both sides should at least know what kind of stakes they have in the game. The Salvatores know Katherine wants her exoneration, and you can guess what they want but they need to tell you.

"Let me start with my family. You see, basically all the Salvatores? We're knee deep in the law enforcement profession. My brother, Giuseppe, is Damon's father. He's FBI."

That makes sense.

"So, he was killed on this ambush?" you conclude.

"No. He's currently a high-ranking official—barely leaves his office—but his other son, Stefan. He also worked for the bureau. Intelligent, skilled, and graduated early with a bright future ahead of him. He was there. Protecting that sleazy political figure. That night 5 years ago cost him his life, and still that case sits open, collecting dust."

Law enforcement roots and yet willing to work with a criminal to take down an even bigger criminal. Albeit, for personal reasons but still. Damon shouldn't be so sure of Katherine's innocence—heck, even you doubt it at times—but the man's willing to get his hands dirty to avenge his brother.

Would you do the same?

"He wants the evidence to close the case."

You glance at Katherine as she speaks, thinking back to that flash of murdering thought you had earlier.

 _Would I do the same?_

Yes.

But then.

You also haven't even truly focused on Jeremy's death. Despite clearing your name, the thought of finding his killer should be as intense as your sudden hate for Jackson Pierce, but it isn't. And for what? Because you're too _scared_ to confront what most certainly is your fault despite not being the one to stab Jeremy that night?

You don't remember all that much, but you know for certain, Jeremy would've never gone to a party like that if he hadn't been looking for you.

You roll your eyes, heaving a deep breath at the dark turn of your thoughts.

You push it away, focusing on the two in front of you.

"Yes, but getting rid of Tobias Pierce doesn't just put him in jail; it also prevents him from doing the same thing again. He'll pay for the wrongs he's done."

"For the betterment of society then? How noble," she rolls her eyes. You've missed something said. "You know, a man can do a lot of things even behind bars. Killing him would serve you much better."

Zach examines her, "And what? Make my nephew a murderer? I won't let him do that."

She rolls her eyes again.

"Okay, like you said earlier. Katherine needs an eyewitness," you join in. Reigning the conversation back to the basics, "Someone to corroborate any new evidence we find that proves her innocent and Tobias guilty. We're here," you make eye contact with Katherine to stop her from interrupting, and continue speaking to the private investigator, "to make sure Damon or even you, for that matter, will be able to help us. In exchange for that video."

"Like I said. Damon hasn't stopped looking into this Viktor case and he won't. He's out there chasing leads, looking for that Mr. Vim you pointed to before. You just make sure you aren't lying about that video. Otherwise all that effort he's gone through for this one closed case, will have been for nothing."

 _Closed case._ Well, that about sums up his thoughts on this entire arrangement.

Katherine walks over to the desk.

"Tell Damon I was here."

Zach eyes the two of you. "That's it? You just wanted some verbal agreement?"

"Unless you have something to give us now, then yes." She picks up two business cards from the desk, writing a number on the back of one and pocketing the other. "Tell him, I'll be in touch."

She drops the card with her number on the coffee table in front of him and makes her exit.

"Wait," you say, staying back. Katherine doesn't stop but you're talking to Zack. "When we leave, are you going to call the cops?"

"No."

"Why not? Do you think Katherine's innocent?"

"No, because aside from holding me at gun point, she's shown nothing to tell me so. But we need each other."

You nod, understanding. First impressions with Katherine seem to be similar from person to person. You can speak from experience, but honestly, she doesn't care.

Glancing at the older man once more, you walk after Katherine, meeting her in the hall. She hasn't even broken her pace to let you catch up.

"That's it?"

"Mhm."

You nod, willing to wait for her to explain any questions you might have later.

When you get to the car and strap in your seat-belt you say, "Well, that was interesting."

Katherine agrees with a look and a tilt of her head. "Let's get out of here."

The way back doesn't feel as long as the way there. You leave the city and get onto the interstate sooner than you remember.

When your stomach reminds you that you haven't eaten lunch you ask Katherine to stop by somewhere.

"Like what?" she asks after rolling her eyes.

"It'll be another hour before we get to the lake house," you justify. "And wherever. We can pick up something from Burrito Shell, or Burger Bite, or I don't know."

"You're the one who wants food."

"Wait, you're telling me you're not hungry?"

"I'm not you."

"Breakfast was 5 hours ago; I don't believe you."

Katherine shrugs, "So, did you pick where we're going?"

You frown at her, trying to gauge what kind of food you might want.

"Oops, too late. We're stopping by here." She's already pulled into the closest exit and is driving into the parking lot for Konnor's.

You sigh, not entirely feeling like fried chicken but completely okay with it. "Fine."

When you tell her what you want from the menu, she instructs you to pull your hood up and pretend to sleep.

"Why do I always have to pretend to sleep?"

"Well, you aren't driving, are you? And besides, we'll stand out less if they can't see that we look alike."

You don't like it, but you do as she says as she goes through the drive thru.

When you're driving off with some drinks and a paper bag of food, you sit up, devouring it.

"You're not having any?" you ask Katherine who refuses when you offer her a fry.

"I'm not hungry."

You look at her, and then shrug yourself. More for you. "So, what're we doing now?"

"Going back to the lake house."

"Besides that."

"That friend I met with earlier? She's looking for Robero. That makes two people looking for him now, and one of them should get back to me soon."

"So, relax and pretend we're not fugitives?"

"Not quite. I'm going to see if I missed anything that might be of use."

Determined. If only you had that same attitude when it came to looking through Jeremy's file. Granted, you've gone through everything, and it just seems like the same dead end it's always been.

Maybe you're just not looking hard enough. Maybe you're missing something too.

You chew your food in a silence that you or Katherine breaks only ever so often with small talk.

Soon the lake house is in view, and you hop out to stretch your legs.

"Damn," you say, looking to the lake and admiring the sunset.

"You should see this place in the fall. It's beautiful," Katherine supplies, going up the porch.

You follow her without paying much attention, resulting in you bumping into her when she stops suddenly.

"What?" you ask, but she moves out of the foyer and to the living room quickly.

The sight that meets you is a mess. Books thrown, vases broken, ornaments fallen. And in the center of the living room is a heaping bloody mess of a man.

"Tony," Katherine breathes, kneeling to see if he's alive.

Kol was right. From here you can hear a slight creak in the hall as someone steps over a certain floorboard, but it's too late. A hard hand is on your shoulder and a gun rests on your back.

You tense.

Two others step out from the dining area, looking threatening with guns in their hands.

"Oh Katherine, no need to worry," someone else steps up from beside you, his attention on the girl kneeling on the floor. "He's not dead."

You watch Katherine turn with a deadly expression, but for once you can see that hint of fear in her eyes.

"Tobias."

"Well now. I hope you don't mind. I've made myself right at home."


	17. You Would Drink It

**Chapter Seventeen:** _ **You Would Drink It**_

 **A/N:**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Katherine**

-x-x-x-

" _You're not saying you hate him, but if he was on fire, and you had water, you would drink it."_

 _-Unknown_

"You're not supposed to be here."

"Well," Tobias straightens, feigning offence. "I suppose. But if we were counting, I believe _you_ have less justification to be here. Weren't you sitting in a cell just the other day?"

You've tensed. Your hands are soaked in Tony's blood, but your glare is directed to your uncle.

"You were in the Maldives."

Tobias stands tall in his tailored suit. It's only been a year, but his dark curls are starting to show signs of greying and he's a little tanner than you remember. Other than that, he looks the same, still constantly wearing that stupid smirk on his face that you despise so much.

You briefly glance at the three others with him.

He's the only one without a weapon.

Typical.

"Where'd you hear that?" He tilts his head, mockingly curious, "You know better than I do that information can be obscured."

Kol had told you that information. You know for a fact that intel he gathers is credible.

But then, on rare occasions—maybe once or twice, for as long as you've known him—it isn't.

You bite your lip.

 _Dammit._

There's no way he hadn't been in the Maldives. He must've come back early, but what you want to figure out is how he knew to come here of all places. But on top of that, even if Tobias hadn't been in the country, you should've been more careful. You should've refused to stay in one place, even if it is Mikaelson property, and even if it has only been a few days.

You can only blame yourself for letting your guard down.

You glare at the man, but your gaze drifts to identify your surroundings.

Beside him, Elena stands quietly, looking at you with her doe-eyes widened slightly. You'd be more sympathetic to the panic she's emanating if you didn't have your own to contend with.

The hand on her bad shoulder contributes to the pained look on her face. You lock eyes with Markos over Elena's shoulder as the older man holds a gun to her side.

This is Markos. You don't believe he'll hurt her, but you also didn't believe Tobias would find you so quickly.

No. Even with the weapon on her side, Markos wouldn't hurt her.

The last two blocking the only other exit are men you recognize. One of them is named Dylan Altenburg and the other, Suresh Basu. Both are young. Families in business with the Pierces.

You basically grew up together.

Too bad it doesn't make a difference. Not with those guns pointed at you.

"Get up," Tobias demands suddenly.

Looking down to Tony, you notice how shallow his breaths are.

"Let me help him," you suggest, ignoring the order. Tony's hurt. So much so, that you think he might not make it if he doesn't see a doctor soon about that bleeding cranium, or that protruding bone around his collar. Fuck, he might not make it either way.

You insist anyway. "Come on, Tobias. You know him. Don't let him die."

"Get up," he repeats, ignoring your words.

You're shaking. You notice when you look down at your hands, but still you try and wake up the man who had, just this morning, made you breakfast.

"Katherine, get the hell up!" he comes at you, turning your shoulder.

"Don't touch me," you snap, shoving his arm.

You see that twitch on his face.

And then that flash of anger that follows all too often.

He raises his hand to hit you for refusing. For retaliating. Even without feeling it, you know that you won't be able to catch the force of his blow, so as soon as your fingers grip his wrist you lean into the momentum, pulling him down and catching his face with your elbow instead.

To bias stumbles forward even as his head snaps back.

A gunshot fires behind you and you see Suresh lower his gun after firing at the ceiling.

"You little shit!" Tobias growls, his nose bleeding.

You move away from his grasp, but Dylan and Suresh get in your way.

"Let me go!" you assert. You pull from their hold but there's two of them and one has a gun in your face in no time.

"What're you going to do, Suresh? Shoot me?!" you challenge.

Their lack of force has you feeling confident. You know Tobias. He would have no problem just setting the entire lake house into flames but for some reason he hasn't.

Instead, you're being confronted, and no ones is shooting _at_ you.

Suresh flinches, glancing at Tobias. The older man grabs you by your hair from behind and shoves you to the ground.

"Get the fuck up," he repeats, sternly. Irate.

You roll over, massaging your head.

"Whatever you're here for, let me help Tony first," you insist, only half worried about the man. You're stalling. You need to think of a way out, and quick.

"No."

"You're really going to start a war with Mikael over me?" He may have come here for you, but he didn't need to beat the groundskeeper senseless. He should know better than to step into Mikaelson property without permission, much less kill one of their own.

"I'm betting Mikael has nothing to do with you being here. Otherwise, you'd have better security," he reasons. "Besides, this isn't really about you."

 _It's not, is it?_

"It will be, once he finds out you killed Tony."

The man groans as he hears his name, finally gaining consciousness.

Tobias frowns, not moving.

You wait a beat before completely turning away from the elder Pierce—trusting, maybe a bit too much, on the fear Gustav " _Mikael_ " Mikaelson evoked just by saying his name.

"Hey," your hands are soaked with blood as you support Tony's head from staying at an odd angle.

"Miss Katherine," Tony mumbles. "You should've ran."

You realized that the second you stepped into the living room, but Tobias had been quick.

"Can you move?" you suggest.

He takes a second to breathe but he nods, "The couch."

You look to Tobias and he glares back.

"I can't carry him by myself," you say.

With reluctance, he lets Dylan help, and the two of you prop Tony upright, onto the couch. You find the first aid kit Tony keeps in the ottoman on the side, opening it after Suresh inspects it for hidden weapons.

"Katherine," Elena calls, and you turn your head.

Your uncle has moved on, circling Markos and Elena.

"Katherine," she calls again, struggling in Markos' grasp. He shakes her.

"Easy," you say, directing it to both.

"Jackson said you had a sister," Tobias chuckles. "Amelia never mentioned this."

You scowl, "Don't talk about my mother."

"Your mother is my sister, first and foremost. You know that she never cared about you," he says this so casually, squinting a little as a smirk appears on his lips. "She still doesn't."

You flinch. His choice of words makes you pause.

"Fuck, she hasn't even told you."

"Hasn't…" you trail off.

 _Told me what?_

You stop rummaging through the kit, suddenly mad. "Why are you talking like she's alive. She died 6 years ago."

He shakes his head slow, pity on his face, "You poor child."

No.

You search his face, glaring at every angle that shows you that his pity is genuine. He must be fucking with you. Amelia Pierce died 6 years ago. What kind of game is he trying to play?

"Why are you telling me this? What the hell do you want?"

There's a long pause where he just stares at you.

If there was ever anyone who could annoy you without doing anything, it would be Tobias. "If you're going to kill me, just get it over with."

He shakes his head slow. "I have other plans for you."

You frown. He'd put out a hit on you. It wasn't even a "Dead or Alive" kind of deal either. Everyone you encountered had been willing to end your life.

Something's changed.

"Father's inheritance. It seems I can do nothing about it, short of the inheritor handing it over to me."

Viktor's money?

"Of course, you just want his money. Too bad. I'm not giving you a single penny."

"That money doesn't belong to you, little girl. What you're going to do is return it to it's rightful owner."

What did he expect? A willing transfer of inheritance? After all that he's put you through?

"What do I get in return?"

Irritated, he suddenly pulls Dylan's gun from his hands and points the barrel at your head, "Your life."

You feel the muscles in your shoulders tighten.

"Now get up, we're leaving."

"Miss Katherine," Tony's bloody hand holds yours, oddly calming. "I'll be alright."

He squeezes it three times and your eyes narrow at him.

He smiles over the bruises on his face, reassuring.

"Okay," you agree, getting up.

Tobias pulls you by the shoulder, shoving you towards Markos.

Markos has let go of Elena and you stand beside her with the elder man towering behind. If you were Tobias, and you trusted him, you would think it secure to have the person you've been looking for in the firm grasp of your head of security.

Tobias isn't stupid, but he doesn't make any moves to indicate that he doesn't trust that Markos won't do his job when it comes to you. Jackson may not have wanted you to leave but he must've left out the part on how you escaped your house.

"I know you hated Viktor, but he always acted in your best interest," Tobias says, sounding—dare you say—jealous? "You may not have killed him but neither did I."

That's hard to believe.

"He was my father. There are certain lines you don't cross."

"Then who did?"

He smirks again, shrugging. "Who cares now? He's gone, and you've been convicted. The only thing I need now is to get rid of loose ends."

He's turned, facing Tony again with the gun held high. Even with the distance, he aims for the man's forehead.

"What are you doing?" you demand.

"For years the Mikaelsons have thought themselves above others. Meddling into my affairs, taking you in? Well, guess what? They aren't as untouchable as they think. Fuck the Mikaelsons. Fuck Mikael."

His finger slides onto the trigger and that instant panic you feel enables you to shove him.

The shot rings out, but his bullet tears a hole through the wall completely missing Tony.

"Now!" the butler shouts, reaching into a hidden compartment on the couch.

You duck, covering your ears as Tony pulls out a shotgun and fires.

A pained cry echoes as he hits Tobias.

Reload.

And then another loud shot.

You scramble away, pulling at Elena before she even has the footing to follow you.

More shots.

This time from 9mm pistols firing in retaliation.

The shotgun fires only once more before it's drowned by the sounds of faster _bangs_ from the handguns.

"Go after them!" you hear Tobias shout, clearly unable to do it himself.

Tony hadn't killed him, but he's been incapacitated.

You lead Elena back outside.

The car is just outside.

Thank God you hadn't parked in the garage.

Pushing her forward, you shout, "The car!"

Elena understands, gaining more momentum now that she knows where she's heading.

You topple over the console table in the hall to slow the others down.

You hear a bullet whiz by your head and the footsteps that follow.

Gripping Elijah's gun, you blindly fire behind you.

Slamming the front door closed and jamming it by shooting the knob off, you sprint to the car Elena already has in gear.

Your heart beats in your ear.

The engine roars as she pulls off.

Your breath comes in rapid gasps.

You look back.

Markos steps out of the front door first before Suresh rushes out, handheld gun out, trying to get a good hit from the distance you've made.

The lake house disappears quickly as Elena floors the gas.

 _That._

Breath.

Breath.

 _That was close._

Breath.

 _But Tony._

You hit the dashboard, startling Elena.

 _Fuck!_


	18. A Game Of Adjustments

**Chapter Eighteen: _A_** _ **Ga** **me Of Adjustments**_

 **A/N: Alright alright, here's the next chapter. Thanks for being here.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

" _I have a plan of action, but the game is a game of adjustments."_

 _-Mike Krzyzewski_

You can name the number of times you've truly been scared to death in one hand.

You count getting lost in a crowded area when you were younger as one.

That one time in the middle of the night that you'd been left in the forest of Mystic Falls for jokes.

Being forced to lead the escape with Sage and Jules.

Being ambushed by Penny in the bathroom had to be another.

Feeling the bus roll, surviving it, and running through that forest that one night? That definitely makes the list.

Actually, make that two hands, because let's not forget about waking up in the forest and finding Jeremy's dead body beside you.

And well… this.

You try to control the way your heart vigorously beats against your chest as you take your breaths.

Markos had let you two go the last time you'd encountered him, but you couldn't help doubting how much help he would've been this time around with Tobias around.

And well, something about Tobias unnerved you. So much so that you had barely said a word during the entire exchange.

"Elena!"

Katherine warns, and you turn the steering wheel, so the vehicle is back on your own lane.

"Watch the road!"

Thank god no one had been on the opposite side.

"Sorry," you apologize, but Katherine shakes her head, and her scowl refuses to disappear.

 _Well._

As the two of you had run out of that house, you heard the deafening sounds of guns firing and bullets flying.

There's no way Tony survived that, and from the way Katherine reacted earlier, it seems leaving him behind upset her.

"I'm so sorry, Katherine," you say with a softer tone, indicating that you _aren't_ talking about your almost accident on the road.

"Don't say sorry. I don't need your sorry," she snaps. If she was a shark, she would've already bit your head off.

"Whoa, what did I do?"

"Nothing, you did absolutely fucking nothing."

You frown as she glowers, and you'd be mad right back if she didn't say, "And slow the fuck down. I don't want to get into another crash, do you?"

This isn't about Tony. She isn't blaming you for him, but she is currently directed her anger to you. You'd tell her to stop attacking you, but you just let her simmer down. A full-blown argument is not what either of you need right now.

You do as she suggests, slowing down a little but still anxious enough not to drop your speed below the acceptable speed limit. Getting stopped by cops won't be good but neither is getting caught by Tobias' men.

They didn't appear to be chasing you—probably focusing on what sounded like their boss getting shot point-blank by a shot gun—but it's never bad to be too careful.

You drive on the same road for a bit, taking the interstate towards Richmond, before you ask her.

"Where are we going?"

Katherine sighs, her stern expression faltering. "I don't know."

You blink at her uncertainty.

"What about your friend?"

"What?"

"The one you went to see earlier. Why don't we—"

"No," she cuts you off. "She's a Mikaelson. We can't go back to them until we figure out how Tobias found out where we were."

 _We._

 _Not the point, Elena,_ you reprimand yourself. She's been including you since even before leaving Port Hill, but that doesn't stop your insecure brain from pointing out occasionally, that whatever incident you're facing now, you aren't alone.

Even if, just a second ago, she had been taking her frustration out on you.

"If we don't have a place go to, what do we do?" You'd suggest something but fugitive tactics aren't exactly your forte and, like you've said, you don't have anybody who would be able to help you.

Katherine rubs her temples, groaning as she thought.

She shakes her head, "We need to get rid of this car."

"The car? But—" how are you going to get anywhere?

"They've seen it. There's no way they didn't see the license plate. They'll be looking for it."

Before you even ask specifically where to stop at, she answers.

"Drive to Richmond. We can hide in a crowded city, and we can get around using the subway."

You nod, glad that, even uncertain, she somehow always has a game plan.

-x-x-x-

"You have it."

The whole almost-getting-killed-by-her-murderous-uncle definitely had the duffle bag and its contents slipping your mind.

You stand at the open trunk of the nondescript Mikaelson car, currently parked in a space at a Pay-To-Park parking garage. It's only half full, and you've yet to run into any bystanders.

"Of course I do," Katherine proclaims, rummaging through the duffle for a moment. She hands you a smaller bag that she makes you hold, as she stuffs a few items in, including the laptop and wads of cash that make you raise your brow. You'd snooped around in this bag already but seeing this amount of money in cash still feels unnatural to you.

Why you thought Katherine hadn't been prepared, you'll never know. Of course, she left her go-bag in the getaway car.

She pulls at her hat and instructs you to put your hood on.

Katherine keeps the bag while you bring the duffle along.

Walking into the street in broad daylight makes you nervous, but if there's anything you can count on, it's that at least out here you'll be harder to spot.

Person.

Person. Person.

Stroller.

Everyone you brush by makes you nervous, but absolutely no one is paying attention.

You hit the intersection of Polleen Street and Forges Road, where Katherine chooses to finally take the public transportation.

You watch your step as you descend the subway stairs, keeping a close distance to Katherine.

There's a fair walk in the underground before the gate, and then soon enough you're waiting for the train.

For sure, there's cameras underground but you try your best not to glance up, hopefully obscuring any clear angles of your face.

At the train, you don't sit beside each other, but you make sure to follow when Katherine gets off on the stop for Main Street.

"Pass the bag," she instructs once you've gone up on ground level and are standing between multiple passenger storage lockers. She stuffs the duffle in and pockets the key.

Clever. You never know when you'll lose your resources, like the lake house. You sigh internally at the thought of the man who'd been housing you this entire time. If leaving Pearl behind felt wrong, leaving Tony for dead was worst. At least with him, you'd gotten to know the man a little from the few days you'd spent there.

You shake your head of your depressing thoughts, remembering the locker number Katherine had used.

309V.

It'll be good to know where at least one stash of useful items are. You have a feeling you'll get into more trouble as long as you're out here running from everyone and anyone.

"Let's go."

Katherine leads you back down, boarding the train once more.

It's another hour before you get off on a more run-down part of the city and are walking to a hotel.

"More like a motel," you grimace, eying the dirty walls and the crusty carpet. "And not to complain but why is there only one bed?"

"Apparently, its on season right now," she rolls her eyes. "There's some big parade happening downtown."

More tourists mean more crowds, meaning easier to hide, not just from Tobias but the police too. That still doesn't stop your nose from wrinkling at the place. "At least the bed looks fresh."

"It's not my first choice either," Katherine says, "but we need to lay low."

"Oh, I get that."

"If hiding in a sleazy establishment off the highway means avoiding Tobias then so be it."

She says this but you can see her face.

Despite her reasoning words, she hates this more than you do.

-x-x-x-

A good shower and a change of clothes later, you lay sprawled out on the bed, thinking of the day you've had.

You can barely fathom that this morning you'd traveled to this same city, had taken a pit stop at a friend of Katherine's, and subsequently met with Zach Salvatore at Salvatore Investigations.

You sigh, massaging your bad shoulder. You hadn't even been able to go back and bring your sling along.

You shake your head.

 _This is what you get for leaving that thing behind for one day._

Who would've thought Katherine would be found so quickly?

You suddenly feel somber when you think of Tony again. He'd been the only person at the lake house. He wasn't young so you wonder if he had any family. Maybe he survived.

That's stupid. Even optimistically, there's no way he survived that shoot out.

Katherine hadn't been the slightest perturbed about ditching Pearl who'd been shot and would be at the mercy of the police, but she'd been upset enough about Tony to snap at you.

From what you've gathered, Katherine grew up with the Mikaelsons and they had spent a good amount of time at that lake house. She probably knew the man all her life.

Huh.

You wonder if you'd be just as upset if Miranda or Greyson died for you like that.

 _Oh, who are you kidding, Elena?_ As estranged as you are with your adoptive parents, you'd be bawling your eyes out if they died. Even if they didn't do it _for_ you. There may be plenty of bad times, but you've had good times with them too—as much as they'd like to bury those moments under their blatant contempt, they exist, and you're not the type to just forget them.

Is that naïve or are you just too hopeful for your own good?

You look around the motel room from your spot, opting not to answer your own question.

The room is small, you imagine it's meant really only for one person. There's the bed you're lying on, and the side table with the telephone. There's a small drawer with the tv on it across from the bed. In the corner is a tiny sink, and a small counter, practically adjacent to the door for the bathroom.

There isn't even a fridge.

Not that you're staying here for long.

How long are you staying here anyways? _Probably_ not for long.

The bathroom door opens as Katherine steps out, clean and drying her hair with her towel.

You meet eyes, but she moves towards the window without a word.

She peers through the closed curtains.

It's dark out and the clock on the wall reads, _1:38._

Damn, you really are beat.

It's been a couple weeks now, but you wonder if this is it. Life hasn't been normal since Jeremy's death, and getting to Port Hill and meeting Katherine had been another rollercoaster, but this is another level. Another notch that cranks up the problems in your life that just keep piling.

Literally running you're your life? Check.

(Maybe if you weren't so scared to face some you'd be rid of problems before another added itself onto your plate.)

You roll your eyes.

Katherine turns off the lights as she drops onto the bed.

"Move over."

You do as she says, too exhausted to say that she has enough space. She settles in and you stare at the ceiling, throwing out the miserable thoughts circling your brain. This reminds you of Port Hill after Block D had fallen apart.

"Hey," you start.

Katherine doesn't respond but she does turn her head towards you.

"What do you think of your uncle claiming he never killed Viktor?"

Other than Tony, the whole exchange had been running though your mind. That was the entire basis of her search, wasn't it? To prove herself innocent while simultaneously demonstrating Tobias' guilt.

But what if he isn't?

It had been a small assertion between all the threatening, but it had stuck with you.

That and what he'd said about Katherine's mother.

"He's lying." She says this so simply. If you mention what Tobias had said about his sister, you have a feeling her answer would be the same.

"But he said—"

 _There are certain lines you don't cross._

"I know what he said, and he's lying. Don't believe a single word that comes out of that man's mouth."

 _But what if he isn't?_ you think, but then again, Katherine knows him better than you do.

"I mean, what if there was someone else?"

You'd reviewed the files right along side with her. Robero had named Tobias visiting his father that night, but he had also mentioned another person, hadn't he? He was going to tell the court who this other person was before he told them it was Katherine.

"Whose side are you on?"

 _The truth,_ you think first.

 _Your side, obviously._

"Sorry," you say, only half apologetic. You sigh at your drowsiness. "It's just bothering me."

"Go to sleep, Elena. You sound like you need it."

-x-x-x-

"Hello?"

You blink at the blur in your vision, waking to the sound of Katherine pacing.

 _This is familiar,_ you think. The only thing missing is a bunk bed and an enclosed cell with metal bars.

Despite the greeting, Katherine isn't talking to you.

"No," she pauses, listening to whoever she's talking to on the other side. You can't hear it. "You got my text? Yeah. He stopped by."

You lay there for a moment, just blinking at the somehow dirty ceiling.

"I don't think he made it, Freya. I'm sorry."

Tony. She's talking about Tony.

"Yeah."

Pause.

Katherine sits on the bottom of the bed facing in and you vaguely hear the other person.

" _Look, I wanted to call because I found something."_

"The house?"

" _No. I haven't gotten anything on that yet, but I did find something on a name you gave me a while back."_

"Which one?" By now Katherine sees you. You exchange glances for a moment as she continues speaking to Freya. "Oh. Seriously? Wow, okay. Let me just write it."

She pulls a pen from the backpack she got from the duffle. She makes _mhm_ noises to confirm and asks the woman on the other end to repeat some things before finishing it.

"No, that's perfect. Thank you."

Pause.

"Yeah, be careful."

You scratch your head as she hangs up, running your hands through your hair to comb it out.

"Who's Freya?" you ask as your fingers get caught.

"A friend."

"The same friend we stopped at? The other Mikaelson?"

Katherine absentmindedly nods as she pulls out the laptop as well.

"You wouldn't happen to have a comb in there, would you?" you grimace at the tangles in your hair.

She places the laptop on the bed—the only clean surface in sight—and types on it, ignoring your request. Or maybe she just didn't bring a comb.

"Katherine," you call, and she throws something plastic, hitting you in the face. "Ow."

"Sorry," she apologizes, grimacing for you.

"Geez." You rub your eyebrow, but pick up the comb to use, "What's so important you couldn't pass this like a normal person?"

You stand up, peering at the computer screen.

She has, what looks like, command prompt open as she types the sequence she had written down.

"You know what you're doing?" your voice conveys all the doubt and curiosity you feel.

"Barely," Katherine admits. "Freya developed a program that reads the gps signals of cellphones. My laptop has a copy of it. I just need to input a specific script unique to each phone and it narrows down the location."

For barely understanding what she's doing, she looks like she knows what she's doing. This is probably why she's better at lying than you are. "Just like that?"

"Yes," she nods, continuing to type.

"So, _who_ are you looking for?"

"Mason Jennings."

"And who's that?"

She stops, looking up at you with a half smirk. It's almost sheepish.

"Well," she draws out. "He may or may not be our father's best friend."

"Huh?" you narrow your eyes at the new information.

"Yeah, Freya's been looking for him for months."

 _For months?_

So, information from before the crash? Information while she was still at Port Hill?

"Where'd you get this from?" _And why am I only hearing about it now?_

"Isobel."

 _This bitch._

"You never mentioned this before."

"It wasn't relevant."

"I'm pretty sure we agreed that anything biological-parents related was a sharing type of information."

"I didn't have anything other than his name," she says. It almost sounds like an apology. "I didn't want to get your hopes up."

"My hopes up?" You groan, only mildly frustrated, "What else have you left out that isn't 'relevant'?"

"That's it," she shakes her head, and you get a sense of de ja vu, having heard that same thing in Port Hill.

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Well, I could believe in unicorns," she shrugs, unbothered, "but that doesn't make it real, does it?"

You frown, aware of how frequently you do so nowadays.

"Come now, 'lena, don't pout," Katherine insists, teasing. "We might be identical, but if you develop anymore frown lines even a stranger would be able to tell us apart."

She copies you when you don't let up, laughing merrily at your contempt.

"So, we're switching away from Viktor's case?"

"Neither Freya nor Damon have found Robero so for now, yeah."

"We're gonna go to wherever this leads us, aren't we?"

"Probably."

"What happened to laying low?"

"This'll probably take a while, so we're not going _right now_ ," she says, indicating the illegible script running on the program. If all the different codes were running any slower, you'd be able to remember each line.

"What's it doing?"

"Searching," she shrugs, opening another file. "We should go over everything we know about Ilia and our unnamed father. With all that's been happening its kind of hard to keep track."

You agree. You've been so focused on find justice for Katherine and not doing the same for Jeremy, that you can't even remember what you'd gathered about your biological parents.

Well, that's a lie. If you think hard enough, your eidetic memory will do that rest, really.

Together you list off what you know, and Katherine types the information on a blank word document just to have something tangible.

Ilia Flemming. Isobel's sister. Had you and Katherine at the young age of sixteen. You were born in California. Before giving you up, Ilia gave you and Katherine necklaces you still wear today.

Your hand drifts to your neck to absentmindedly fiddle with the locket's chain but you freeze.

"My necklace!" you exclaim loudly, getting to your feet. All panic, no tact.

"Shh!" Katherine shushes. "We're laying low, remember? And I have your necklace."

She has all your attention.

"Pearl found it in your shoe when she was seeing to your injuries. I kept forgetting to give it back."

As cheesy as it is, you're beyond relieved when she pulls out the silver chained locket and hands it to you. It came from ilia. And though, you'd only learned her name a few months back, the necklace is essentially a part of you. A part of you that you can't believe you forgot about.

"How did I forget this?"

"A lot was happening. And a little besides that point but, you're feeling okay, right?"

"Uh, yeah?" you say, uncertain of her lead. "Why?"

"You did get a concussion. Or are you forgetting that too?"

With these stitches on your head that pull at the slightest expression? Not likely.

"You're usually much sharper."

And here you thought _she_ thought you were all slow and part dumb.

"Is that an attempt at a compliment?"

"But isn't it?"

You roll your eyes, chuckling a little, "Okay, whatever."

She smiles, "Was that all we know?"

"Uh," you think. "That address you asked me about. 291 Warrenville Road."

Isobel had been giving information to Katherine little by little. One of them being an address that just so happened to lead back to your adoptive father, Greyson. Which… doesn't make sense? You would ask him, but he isn't exactly taking your calls anymore. Not after he and Miranda decided that prison was too lenient a sentence for the murderer of their only son.

"Freya's on it as well. She'll get back to me."

"Hey, is that it?" you point to the computer screen where the program stopped searching. This time the bar that had been flashing through thousands of codes were replaced with a number letter combination.

"That's—"

"Longitude and latitude."

It's one thing to just be that, but the degrees change slightly.

"Is this real time?" you ask, thoroughly impressed.

"He's moving, and pretty quickly. Probably on a highway." She pulls up Google, typing in one of the coordinates you'd seen. "And not that far actually."

You peer at the location, incredulous, "Two states over is not that far?"

She shrugs, "Isobel told me we might be able to find answers from him. Maybe even a name."

"I can't believe that woman didn't even tell us his name."

"Our dear old aunt had plenty of things she didn't even tell us. The important thing is Freya's program found him," she says, getting up with more energy than you want to muster. "Are you up for a road trip?"


	19. A Sense Of Loss

**Chapter Nineteen: _A Sense Of Loss_**

 **A/N: I genuinely thought this chapter would be shorter. Much much shorter. So, this is what having no writer's block feels like. Looking forward to the next chapters, hope yall are too!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Katherine**

-x-x-x-

" _It was one of those times you feel a sense of loss, even though you didn't have something in the first place. I guess that's what disappointment is_ _—_ _a sense of loss for something you never had."_

 _-Deb Caletti_

39.931883N, -75.317755W

The coordinates had started somewhere up near Philly, but Mason Jennings was moving around quickly.

You'd taken a long journey on the Megabus up north and ended up stopping in Maryland once the numbers stopped changing so rapidly.

"So, we know what this guy looks like, right?" Elena asks as she sprinkles salt onto her late breakfast-dinner. Her term, not yours.

You sit at a diner.

It's late.

You nod, "He has some pictures from social media. A bit dated I think, but unless he's had plastic surgery done, we'll make do."

"You sure this is him?"

"Yup." Not quite, but Freya hasn't failed you yet.

Elena cleans off the scrambled eggs from her plate, munching on some bacon. "God, I love bacon."

"You don't say," you comment, finishing your own. You love it too, but you aren't half the enthusiast Elena is. "I can't believe you love food this much but you can't cook."

She scoffs, "Imagine how obese I'd be if I knew how to make anything myself?"

You check your laptop again for the coordinates, snickering. Caroline had mentioned Elena and her cooking skills, or lack thereof.

"It looks like he's finally settled," you observe. When the coordinates stopped changing, you had waited a good hour to make sure he wasn't going to speed off again. "Maybe he's stopping for the night."

"Where?"

"Just a few blocks from here," you close the laptop, and look to Elena expectantly. "You're done, right?"

She glances at her half empty plate and sighs, "I guess."

Dropping a few bills, you pull your backpack over your shoulder and walk out. Elena follows.

Since you're stuck without a vehicle, you have to walk to this place.

Two blocks down, just on your left.

"He's here… probably in there," you point to the bar, _The Stryx_ , across the street. Hopefully, he's in there. It'd be much easier to search than the hotel beside it. Or the industrial building on the other side of it.

"Uh, so we just walk in there and bother this guy?" Elena asks, once you show her the picture again. It's more for your benefit since she doesn't need a second glance.

The man is handsome; grey eyes, dark hair, and a long stubble along his jaw that compliments his bright smile. If he hasn't changed much, you'll be able to spot this man, easy.

"What are we leading with anyway? 'Hey, you don't know us, but we need answers about our unnamed father who you're supposedly best friends with?'"

You frown, "Well, yeah."

If you had more time, you'd have planned something more elaborate and deceptive. Ideally, you don't want to leave behind any evidence that you were ever here, but for now, it's unavoidable.

Elena stops you when you go ahead anyways.

"Wait, seriously?"

"It's not that hard, Elena. We just have to approach him and ask questions he has answers to."

"And if he recognizes us."

"That is the idea."

"No, I mean, _fugitive_ us, not _Ilia's children_ us."

As sound as that is, you shake your head, "Port Hill and the police haven't so much as told the public that there was an incident. Let alone name any of the prisoners that escaped. We'll be fine."

She looks uncertain.

"Stop worrying. Come on."

You grab her arm, pulling her towards the doors.

The smell of peanuts, fried food, and beer hit you the second you enter the door.

Elena pulls her hood off, but you keep your hat on. Your eyes scan the room. There's plenty of people, but the place isn't packed enough that you can't search for Mason.

After a few minutes of going around and stopping to use the ladies' room, Elena grabs your arm. She points to a man on a bar stool in the corner, "That's him, isn't it?"

Unlike the charismatic cheer of the man in the picture, you're met with a figure, his shoulders hunched over the bar as he nurses his drink.

You think twice about approaching him, knowing better than to ask a drunk man for answers. But then again, sometimes that's the best time to get anyone talking.

"Mason Jennings?" you approach, pushing Elena to sit on the stool beside him while you stand.

"Who wants to know?" he slurs out, glaring at Elena first, thinking her the culprit.

"You," he stops short when he sees her and he scowls, "You look familiar. Who are you?"

"Her name is Elena Gilbert. I'm Katherine," you divert his attention.

Glazed over grey eyes meet yours.

Yup, he's drunk.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"You…" he trails off, seemingly out of breath as his eyes dart between the two of you. "Her kids..."

" _Her_ kids?" Elena asks, suddenly eager now that she's confirmed you've found the right person. "Ilia?"

"Ilia," he murmurs to himself. When he meets your eye, it looks like he's suddenly sobered up. He nods, "Your mother."

"Great," you say, "You know who that is. Can you answer something for us?"

"A few things, actually," Elena adds.

"Like our father," you start. They're best friends, this should be easy. "Who is he? What's his name, and where can we find him?"

An irritated twitch flashes across his face. "Why would you ask me?"

"We were told on good authority that you're his best friend."

"Good authority," Mason scoffs at that, fiddling with the glass of his drink, and looking around the bar. The bartender comes around and the man orders another.

He nods to Elena, offering.

She shakes her head.

"I don't know you. Why would I tell either of you anything?"

"Because you knew our mother," Elena insists, leaning forward. "And because we have no one else to ask."

"No one?" he speaks incredulously, side glancing at you. "Gilbert, eh?"

Elena nods.

He laughs out loud, turning the closest few heads towards your little trio.

"Let me get this straight, you don't even know your father's name, but your last name is Gilbert?"

"Yeah," Elena frowns, "whats so funny?"

"Your father's name was Johnathan," as he speaks, you notice the way his eyes draw towards Elena, "Johnathan Gilbert."

"What?" she immediately asks, dumbfounded. From her tone you don't even have to look at her expression to get that she knows him. Not to mention the last name. Her father's name is Greyson, but this Jonathan Gilbert could be a close relative.

Did she grow up knowing him?

You swallow back your jealousy and the immediate assumptions that crash through before you can rationalize them.

Had he picked Elena?

Was letting you go a choice he made willingly?

Elena didn't act like she knew Ilia, but did she really? Maybe dear old mum changed her name. Maybe they'd stayed close to Elena while shipping their elder twin daughter to some rich well-known family?

"You're kidding, right?" Elena voices and you snap back to the conversation.

"No, you're right," Mason sips his drink, hissing at the sting of it, "John was my best friend. And I was there when Ilia was still carrying you both."

You don't say anything, and its then that Elena looks to you as if reading your mind.

"He's my uncle," she explains, almost angry. The way she says it carries weight.

She looks away before you can read her eyes.

"There are a thousand reasons I can count, telling you why John can't be my father," Elena affirms, "But thing is, you don't have any evidence."

"Evidence? You came here to ask _me_ what I know," Mason huffed out a big breath, taking another drink, "proof or not, that son of a bitch is your father."

You grab Elena's arm before she can walk out in frustration or worse: retaliate with her nonacceptance.

"What can you tell us about him?" you ask.

"He's a lying prick, that one."

"I could've told you that," Elena mumbles, annoyed.

You nudge her. She's not helping.

"When was the last time you talked to John?" you ask, sounding level-headed.

Mason rolls his eyes, "Years. How would I know?"

"You said he _was_ you best friend. I doubt he's dead so that means you guys had some kind of falling out," you had rationalized this while the two were talking, "I'm sure you'd remember if you ever saw his face again."

He squints his eyes and scoffs at you, but your stare doesn't waver. If he hadn't seen him, he would've flat out said when—most likely before you were born.

"Come on," you insist. "We need more than finding out his ex-best friend hates him."

Mason takes another drink, and makes a comment, "You're as stubborn as Ilia."

You wait and you feel Elena's eyes go to you. She doesn't want to waste anymore time on him and if she decides not to do anything stupid, she's more than welcome to leave if she really wants to.

Mason drinks.

"Five years ago," he says finally, "and I punched him the second I saw his face."

"Do you know where he is now?"

At that he loudly laughs again causing more people to turn their heads. "Hell, hopefully."

You glare at him and he takes his time to remedy the answer.

"No. And I don't care to."

"At least tell us where you saw him last," you persist.

"Europe. London. Now if you girls are done killing my buzz, leave me the fuck alone."

He waves you both away, and this time you do as you're requested.

Talking to him is tedious, and you don't really have as much patience as you're displaying.

You walk out of the bar and head to the street.

-x-x-x-

"Well, he was helpful," Elena commented, sarcastically.

You sit on the bed at the next motel you'd found. As gross as it is, its easier to anonymously book these places compared to much bigger hotels.

Here, they won't ask questions.

And at least this time, there's two beds.

"Now what?"

"What's your relationship with John like?" you ask from across the room. Elena's face instantly scrunches up in distaste, and it stays that way as she settles into her bed.

When you ask again, she glances at you, taking a second before saying, "I don't want to talk about it."

"Elena."

"What? You can brush things off, but I can't?"

You narrow your eyes.

You hadn't expected her to throw that at you. If she was pettier, you could hear her gloat about tables turning. Every other time you'd needed information from her, you'd never had to jump through this obstacle because she'd been more than willing to share.

You sigh, dropping back onto your bed. "Is it really that serious?"

There's a reason she's refusing to share.

"No," Elena admits, turning around so her back is to you, "but finding out your prick uncle is your father? Just… give me a sec, okay?"

You lick your lips feeling how dry they are and opting to take her request.

 _Okay,_ you think. _But only for a second._

-x-x-x-

" _He's dead. You—you fucking killed him—"_

 _You'd choked on your own words back then, a half sob cutting off as Jackson pulled you by the shoulders._

" _Get a grip!"_

 _You shook your head, your vision blurring from unshed tears._

 _You'd exchanged words that night. Shouts, and taunts, and whimpers._

 _Anger and frustration and_ hopelessness _._

 _Words that meant nothing because in the end Jackson won._

 _His threat echoed in your head._

" _You won't tell anyone about this."_

 _You'd been defiant then, glaring, fisting your right hand and trying to stop the bleeding. "We'll see."_

 _But he had been right._

 _You hadn't told a soul._

You gasp, jerking awake in your bed as you try to push him away.

 _Fuck._

You think this as your eyes adjust to the dark.

The motel.

Maryland.

Mason Jennings.

You had fallen asleep.

You blink, rubbing your eyes to rid yourself of the images burned to the back of them.

 _Shit._

With a groan, you turn to your left to see if you've woken up Elena. You squint a little, pulling the switch on the lamp to turn it on.

"Elena?" you voice, searching the room when you see that she isn't on her bed. "Elena?"

You wipe the sleep from your face, pausing to gaze at your unblemished right hand before you get up to check the bathroom.

She isn't there either.

" _What_?" you mutter to yourself, perplexed. Not a second later, your brain supplies that your sis has a habit of being an insomniac when something's bothering her.

Johnathan Gilbert.

What could he have done that made her hate him so much?

Well. You figure this can't be _all_ about him. You've literally watched Elena silently fall apart; problem after problem. No words of advice from you have helped.

Helping you with Tobias, to take her mind off her own case, isn't working.

That file on Jeremy—a nudge in the right direction—didn't help either. She'd placed that folder in the safe at the lake house after just a day of looking through it.

She needs focus. Motivation. Her own willingness.

There's only so much you could do.

 _Who are you kidding? You haven't done enough._

You wince, silencing the stupid voice in your head.

It's 3:18 AM.

Elena must've gone out, you conclude. But where would an insomniac, doe-eyed child be wandering in the middle of an unknown city?

 _No, duh, she has a phone._

You pick up yours, dialling her number.

She answers on the second ring.

" _Katherine?"_

"Where are you?" you ask bluntly.

" _Oh, uh. At the diner we stopped by."_

"What are you doing there?"

" _Couldn't sleep."_

You sigh, holding back the " _No shit"_ at the tip of your tongue, or the _"Why?_ "

"Stay there," you instruct, hanging up promptly. You lay on your bed for a minute, but once you've woken up it's not that easy to go back to sleep.

Turning on the lights, you grab your bag, and stuff anything you'd left lying around. Elena might just be down the street, but this bag is something you're keeping on you at all times.

You bring your hat, walking out to the cold night air.

You see some stars but they're faint, and the road is pretty much empty.

A couple blocks down, you get back to that diner you had stopped at when you first arrived.

The sign at the front reads: _Open 24hrs._

Surprisingly, there's a fair number of people sitting around the dining area.

 _Mostly truckers,_ you note, spotting Elena effortlessly.

"How long have you been here?" you ask sitting across the booth from her. She hadn't been facing the door, so she's surprised by your appearance.

You'd expected more than just a mug of coffee in her hand.

"Hey," she greets, and answers, "Maybe an hour."

You set your bag down and the waitress comes, her eyes lighting with familiarity. She doesn't comment on it, but she probably recognizes you two together from earlier in the night.

"What can I get you?" she asks you. Her name tag reads: Mary.

"Just a water, Mary," you offer a small smile of formality, "Thanks."

She nods, coming back with a glass for you, "Just holler if you need anything, darlin'."

You take a sip.

"You didn't have to come," Elena says, eyeing you for a moment.

You only raise a brow.

"What's bothering you?"

Elena shakes her head. You can almost hear her deny anything wrong, but she thinks better of it. "A lot of things."

The Gilberts, Jeremy, her aunt Jenna, the near-death experiences at Port Hill, the crash, yet another near-death experience at the lake house, and now she's actively a fugitive with nowhere to go.

It might not seem like you're paying attention, but you're paying attention.

"Why don't we start with your uncle?" you say. Johnathan Gilbert may be your father, but she knows him best as her uncle.

" _Uncle_ , ugh," she scoffs. "Why do we have such bad luck withour uncles?"

You hadn't thought of that. "At least yours doesn't want to kill you."

"Hey," she shakes her head. "If it's true. If John really is him, I'd rather stop looking now."

"Why?"

"Imagine finding out Tobias is your biological father."

You wince, understanding, "That bad?"

She more or less nods.

You wait for her to continue but she doesn't.

Elena takes a sip of her coffee, looking out the window to the empty street, and ignoring your prompt.

Tables meet Turned.

Truly.

But unlike you, she probably isn't even doing it on purpose, or just to get under your skin.

"What's he done?" you ask directly. And unlike her, you don't beat around the bush. If John is anything like Tobias, he's done more than just one thing to warrant such an adverse reaction.

When she meets your gaze, her eyes portray her… grief.

"He's…" she runs her hand through her hair. "He's horrible."

"How so?"

"I…" she trails off, shaking her head. Her mind must be swirling. "Uncle John… I've always known him as my estranged uncle."

You tilt your head, intently listening to her open up.

"I don't see him regularly, and I've always been glad I didn't. But from the times he's around? He's a drunk. An alcoholic whose been committed for most of the time I've known about him. He isn't entirely violent, but he has anger issues. He yells at my parents, yells at me and Jeremy… And Jenna."

That pause at the end is different. "What about Jenna?"

Elena stares at you for a moment, contemplating. It's almost freaky how intense her eyes bore into yours, identical in every aspect.

"He…"

"Will you stop trailing off?"

"He's a fucking creep, okay? He's flirted with some of my teachers, and even one of my friends. One time, I saw him with Jenna. He'd had too much to drink and he was… forcing himself on her…"

The way she looks at you. You almost flinch. So, _this_ is how she'd leapt from Jackson having a bad temper to him being abusive towards you?

"Oh," you say, feeling a type of guilt even Elena can read. It crawls up your face for a moment.

Consciously or unconsciously, she translates this as your uneasiness towards the subject. And well, that's not _entirely_ wrong.

"I stopped him!" she adds quickly. As if it remedied the type of man your biological father is. Even Jackson, despite how much you hate him, hasn't stooped to that level, though it isn't hard to imagine he would if he could. "I stopped him, thank god, but that was the last time I saw him. So, like I said, if John is our real father, I'd rather stop looking now."

"Even if he has answers?" He doesn't sound the least bit endearing, but he has something you need. "Even if he can tell us where Ilia is?"

She falters but ultimately, "Yes."

You breathe a deep sigh.

"Alright," you agree. The man has the answers you're looking for, of course he does, but for now, it looks like you won't be using him as your lead.

Elena fiddles with the handle on the mug. Clearly, John isn't the only thing bothering her.

"So, what else is bothering you?"

"Huh? How do you know there's anything else?" There's a beat and she shakes her head, "No, of course you do."

You laugh at her resign, "Come on, 'lena. We can't sit here all morning."

"Okay," she shifts in her seat. "I've just been thinking. I was adopted. So were you."

"Okay."

"But…" she's hesitant, biting her lip and undoubtedly trying to take your advice about speaking without trailing off seriously, "ugh, its stupid."

You roll your eyes, "Try me."

"I just—I can't believe all this time; I'd been thinking I would have another family. A real family. A _better_ one. Somewhere out there. God, that makes me feel like such a bad sister. I wouldn't trade Jeremy for anything. Its just… If my biological parents had given me up willingly, there was still a chance they had good reason to. I'd always wondered why Greyson and Miranda would bother to even adopt me if they never loved me. Adoption is a choice, isn't it?"

She looks to you for confirmation, her eyes watering with her emotion. It's a no-brainer.

You nod.

"I'd held out hope that at some point in my life, they had really loved me. Loved me enough to pick me from all the other children they could've adopted. I guess this just proves why they're so eager to get rid of me without a second thought. They never did," she chuckles humourlessly, "I'm just the daughter of Greyson's deadbeat younger brother."

You wait between her pause.

"Mason couldn't have been lying and I hate that it's true. John is my father. I just wish I didn't know. I'd rather not know." She reaches up, angrily wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "God, I'm such an idiot. Why am I even crying?"

You scoff a little, "You are an idiot."

She blinks at you, shook.

"If you really think you're an idiot," you continue, now that she's somewhat snapped from the emotion. "But you don't."

Nothing she's blaming herself for is her fault.

She knows that.

"You've done nothing wrong," you remind her, placing your hand to stop hers from shaking. "What kind of child wouldn't want her parents love?"

She frowns but lightly squeezes your hand, wiping the back of her free one on her face. You pass her some napkins from the dispenser.

The conversation may have been about her uncle, but her parents greatly factor into it.

"Look, I've never even met them, but your parents sound like real jerks. You talk like they only hated you, but if they were away most of the time, you weren't the only child they were avoiding."

She agrees, but then she narrows her eyes.

You freeze.

"How do you know that?"

"Know what?"

"That they were barely around?"

You tilt your head, "You've mentioned it."

Elena frowns, thinking, "I need some sleep."

"You've mentioned it before," you say because she has. Your expression softens a bit, "Though, I admit I may have lied about only looking at your academic record. Sue me, I searched up the people who adopted you, but I am right, they are jerks."

She shakes her head, "Yeah. Doesn't make it feel any less worse."

It doesn't.

"Apparently, our parents kept you, huh?" your tone is teasing, steering it back to the people who'd given you up, but your question is completely serious, "You know what that means?"

"People are perpetual liars?" she groans, dropping her head into a folded arm.

"No," you say, patting her to look back up. "Well yes, but that's a given. That means we don't have to talk to John, if you don't want to, cause—"

"We have Miranda, Greyson, and even Jenna." Her shoulders drop at the thought of having to face the very people she's been avoiding.

You smirk a little, "Exactly."

"We're gonna have to head to Mystic Falls, aren't we?"

"Yup."

"Shit," she mutters, dropping her head again.

By now the diner has less customers than before. At 5 AM, it's somehow less busy than 3 in the morning.

"It'll be sunrise soon," Elena observes simultaneously.

You glance out the window.

"Why don't we head back?" you suggest, picking up your bag.

The waitress waves her goodbye, thanking you for tipping her.

There are a few people on the street, presumably heading to work or wherever.

A car zips by, narrowly missing a woman crossing the street, and continues heading up the road.

You frown.

"It's still dark," Elena comments. "You'd think drivers would be more careful."

You round the street towards the motel.

You stop short.

Your heart drops, and your eyes widen at the picture across the road.

At the parking lot of the motel are several parked cars angled against the lines. There aren't any flashing lights, but you suspect they wanted to be covert.

"Wait."

You grab Elena's arm, pulling her behind a road parked car.

You're still a good distance away.

"What?"

She hasn't seen it yet.

"Those are cop cars. There's at least five there," you point to the cruisers labeled as such, and the nondescript ones that have a removable police lights on its roof.

"Oh, crap," Elena is a mix of scared and alert. "They found us."

At the motel, numerous officers' litter the space between their cars. Two local sheriffs are speaking to the three bystanders that are out and awake at this time, presumably telling them to stay back or leave. The officials getting ready near their vehicles are clad in tactical gear and armed with assault rifles.

A SWAT team?

They get in position, moving in uniform up both staircases, and meeting at the door you'd stepped out of just a few hours ago.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

You feel goosebumps.

Are two fugitive a truly that much of a threat?

Elena's head snaps to you, "What do we—"

Before finishing the sentence, a loud _BOOM_ erupts from ahead.

You and Elena are thrown back, glass from the car you'd been hiding behind shatter everywhere. You hit the pavement, hard, knocking the wind from your lungs.

Suddenly, the only noise you hear is a loud buzzing sound.

You groan as your hearing pitches in and out, coming back at full volume without warning.

You'd been thrown back from where you stood so you now have full view of the motel, even at ground level.

The flames lick at the room you'd occupied, erupting from the door and the shattered window, up to the roof. There's debris everywhere, and the officers who'd been surrounding the place are on the ground.

Your jaw drops when someone runs out of the smoke, engulfed in flames.

 _Oh my god._

You feel the heat of the giant ball of fire that had been a room just a second ago even from here.

There's a flurry of chaos as the less severely injured police radio in to dispatch.

"Oh my god," Elena voices.

There's shouting in the smoke. The remaining police and swat team communicate to each other, shouting over the blaze; a great contrast to the still night sky.

Between the chaos you make out, "Call the fire department! —ll the fire department!"

You get up with some difficulty, grabbing Elena. "Come on."

"What the fuck just happened?"

"A bomb," you huff, steering her away as you dust off glass from your shirt. "Let's go."

You don't run. You don't want to look suspicious, but you have pulled down your hat more.

When you're further away, sitting at a stop for a bus back to Virginia, Elena turns to you. You constantly glance around, not ashamed to admit that you're paranoid.

"You don't think they'd assume we put that there?" she questions, coming to the likely horrifying truth. "The bomb."

 _Probably,_ your mind supplies, and your stomach turns at the thought of it.

"I don't know," you say aloud, and no way in hell are you going to stay to find out.

The police had been searching for you. Once they find out that neither you nor Elena were in there when it exploded, they'll immediately assume it was on purpose.

And it was. Just not by you.


	20. Armed And Dangerous

**Chapter Twenty:** _ **Armed And Dangerous**_

 **A/N: Ah, yes,** _ **Guest**_ **, they really should've asked for a picture. Oof. Would've helped.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

"… _But calling [her] a demon was like calling Tinkerbell armed and dangerous."_

 _-L.J. Smith_

After crossing state lines from Maryland to Virginia, you find yourself sitting in a stolen vehicle, driving down the highway.

You blink, yawning into your hand as you glance at Katherine in the passenger seat.

She's fast asleep, her head leaning on her arm against the window. It's dark out—probably 3 in the morning, if you had to guess—and before knocking out, Katherine tasked you to drive towards Interstate 64 and to wake her up before you pass a town called New Market.

You hadn't asked why, just nodded and took the steering wheel with shaky hands.

You remember feeling deaf when that bomb had gone off and bruised at the force of it knocking you down.

You've only ever witnessed another explosion once, and it felt eerily like the one Jules had set off in Port Hill's Block D, surreal. Back then, you and Bonnie could've very well been left behind, left at the bottom of the Silo to die a fiery death. This time, if you hadn't been so restless and wandered off, you wonder if you and Katherine would've fallen victim to that bomb. How had it gotten there? Who put it there? Was it there before or after you left? Why bomb a motel? But most importantly, how did the police find you?

The entire thing is such a narrow miss, you feel charred from the impact regardless.

You constantly glance at your rear-view and side mirrors, watching for any red and blue lights. They would stand out, especially in the dark.

 _Calm down, Elena. Stop psyching yourself out._

You're far from that county, heck, you aren't in the same state anymore, but that thought doesn't help with the uneasy feeling in your stomach.

A fugitive this whole time, and its only now, you're starting to feel like the cops are really on your trail. That layer of protection Katherine's contacts have been providing has given you the illusion that the authorities weren't even close. Despite no media coverage to help the public identify you, they had been right at your door, waiting for the right moment to knock it down. It seems like everyone is right on your heels. The Pierces? The Cops? What next, the Gilberts too?

You roll your eyes at the unintended segue. You'd been trying to avoid _that_ topic on the Megabus, and at the parking lot you stole this car from, and even now as you drive.

 _John._

You heave a deep sigh. Of all the people in this world, why did it have to be him?

Despite his lack of decorum, John was charming. Charismatic, even. You'd once witnessed him charm his way into one of the town's council members pants at an annual Mystic Falls gathering. Of course, all that charisma went away when he was drunk. And he was drunk _all_ the time.

You grip the steering wheel tighter.

All this time. Dammit, you'd wasted so much time trying to win Greyson's approval, trying to find that father figure you'd always wanted, and yet, there he was. John, your real father. He had been there all along. He hadn't said a goddamn thing, hadn't even tried to build a relationship with you. You'd grown up right in front of him and he'd done absolutely _nothing_.

Irrationally, you think, " _Why didn't he quit drinking? Why hadn't he tried for you?_ " but then you remember this is _Uncle_ John, and he thinks about nobody but himself.

Greyson and Miranda. They knew. And Jenna too. They all knew.

You're stuck feeling between absolute anger, and that quiet, lonely sadness you felt while you sat at that diner and thought these exact same things the first time around.

" _You_ are _an idiot,"_ you hear Katherine say, agreeing with you then—and reminding you, despite the emotion, that you already knew what kind of people your family was.

One step forward, no steps back.

John is your father, knowing that doesn't change what or who he's been to you your whole life. It certainly didn't change anything for him.

You sigh. But now that you know, what do you want out of that?

A road map to Ilia? An explanation? Love?

The last one makes you cringe.

Katherine stirs and you look for a road sign that tells you how far away you are from the nearest city, but she wakes up all on her own.

She looks around, rubbing her eyes, "Where are we?"

"Almost there, I guess," you say, thinking back to the map she'd shown you on the laptop. "Though, you could probably go back to sleep if you just told me exactly where I have to stop."

She rubs the back of her head, sitting up in her seat. "There isn't really a specific stop, per se."

"What're we doing? We're not going straight to Mystic Falls, right?" You feel alarmed at the thought. You will be, eventually, but for now, you're not ready.

"No."

"Okay," a small huff of breath signals your relief. "What're we doing then? Meeting up with another criminally knowledgeable family friend?"

"Uh," she makes a face, and shrugs. "You could say that."

You raise your brows, "Of course, we are. So, who are they?"

You want to jokingly ask if it's the Forbes this time, but Caroline had told you about her mother's death and she'd never mentioned her father.

"An extended family friend," she says, fixing her hair in the mirror.

More connections. That only makes you wonder how long you would have lasted on the run without Katherine. There's no doubt you would've been caught by now, or worse, probably dead. You weren't in the best shape following that crash, and you could've easily bled to death from your concussion.

You glance at Katherine. You never did thank her.

She notices, meeting your eye and winking at you with that grin of hers. Your nose scrunches up and you focus on the road.

Granted, you probably also wouldn't be so close to this deadly drama the Pierces have going on—over money, no less, but that's besides the point.

"You're going to take the next exit on the right and then turn left," she instructs, closing the passenger mirror and snapping the visor up.

You do as she says, stopping at the stop light. "Family friend? As in it's safe, right?"

Between running and more running, that's honestly all you need to know.

Katherine wrinkles her nose, taking a moment, "Yes. But hopefully, on one else is there."

"What does that mean?"

She shrugs, "Just that, more people know about this place than I'd like. It kind of has a lot of traffic, depending on the season."

A lot of people know about this place? So, it must be known for hiding people, or something like that, because that's why you're heading there. Hopefully, it isn't anything like Jeremy Chang's scrap yard. You'd really like to avoid places that appear to be trafficking people.

After getting off the main road, you're directed to ones that lead into the forest. You want to groan at the though of another wooded area, but it's easier to hide out here than in the city. The crowds never stopped you from feeling anxious, and it's even more so now that you know you'd almost died hiding in plain sight.

It's another twenty minutes before Katherine tells you to stop at driveway of a small cabin. It's in the middle of nowhere, but that doesn't make you feel any better. You feel uneasy about everything now, but it's not like you don't have good reason.

"Stay here," Katherine says, hooking her finger onto the door latch.

"Wait," you grab her arm, stopping her, "Where are we? Whose house is that?"

You want to be careful, and not only because you'd recently dodged some cops and a bomb but because at this point, being careful would be the smartest thing.

"A man named Trevor Desman."

"Who's that?" you ask in caution. Did she expect you to just sit in this car? "How do you know him?"

The last time she told you to stay put, she almost had to face Jackson on her own. Not that you don't doubt Katherine could get herself out of pretty much any situation, but at least she dodged the creep trying to shove his tongue down her throat. You shiver at the thought.

Katherine looks to the cabin, bottom lip curling between her teeth.

She sits back and crosses her arms.

"What?"

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea."

Uh. Odd. Despite the circumstances, her uncertainty feels out of place. You really don't see this expression on her face that often.

"What makes you say that?" you question.

"Trevor works at F and P."

"F and P? Franklin & Pierce?"

She nods, indicating the company the Pierce empire was built on, "Yeah."

That company has thousands, if not, hundreds of thousands of employees. How did she know this one guy? And how did she know him enough to trust that he'd hide you two instead of calling the police?

"He worked for Viktor directly," she answers your unspoken thought.

Markos had worked for Viktor too. What did that mean? That the man would now be working for Tobias? That he would harbour two fugitives, even from his employer? The latter makes sense if she knows him like she knows Markos, but it wouldn't be far fetched to think the former applied as well. But why the hesitation?

"We've made it all the way here. What do you wanna do?" Because it's not like you can decide things you don't completely understand. Only Katherine can tell if it's worth risking the stop here. And you don't think you'd be able to sleep in another motel, now that the last one blew up on you.

She lets out a deep sigh, and repeats, "Stay here."

"Are you sure?" you ask, weary of letting her go alone, even if the door is only meters away.

"Yeah," she nods, opening her door, "I'll come and get you when it's clear."

"That doesn't sound very assuring," you say.

"It isn't supposed to be. Don't turn the car off."

You worry about what that means but trusts that Katherine knows what she's doing.

It takes a moment, but a woman answers the door only to immediately swing it back close. Katherine is quick, her hand stops it from shutting. She says something. You try but you don't hear it. The woman shakes her head, she looks angry, and they quickly look like they're arguing.

You barely hear Katherine say something along the lines of, "—please."

You lean forward when the woman's hand comes up to Katherine's shoulder to hold her back. Before you can think to get out ( _Really, what would you have done anyways, Elena_?), a man comes to the door behind the woman. His face lights up in surprise. He says something to the woman, and she moves out of his way to hug your counterpart. This must be Trevor Desman.

Your eyes narrow, trying to figure out the trio's dynamic.

The woman goes back into the house, while Trevor and Katherine exchange a few words.

Soon, they're heading back to the car, towards you.

"Refrain from freaking out. You're not hallucinating," you hear Katherine as you roll down the windows.

From here you can see him better. Trevor stands at least six feet tall with light brown hair. His blue eyes widen when he sees you.

"Trevor, this is Elena, my twin. Elena, Trevor."

Sheepishly, you wave, not knowing what else to do, "Hey."

-x-x-x-

Inside, the cabin isn't nearly as fancy as the Mikaelson lake house. It's small, just as it appears on the outside, but the most shocking thing is that you recognize someone inside.

"Katherine, Elena," the girl greets.

"Hayley," you say, astonished to see her here of all places.

Katherine looks at the girl, rolling her eyes, "Of course, you're here."

You're confused at the supposed obvious. Hayley had mentioned knowing the Mikaelsons, how did that translate to being in a cabin owned by someone who works for the Pierces?

"What're you doing here?" you ask her. Not that you expected that she died but after Pearl, you really never thought about running into anyone else from Port Hill.

Hayley offers you a smile, "I was on that bus, same as you. I was with a few others and we found a camp with a working car."

You nod. You had as well, but that entire thing had been a blur to you.

Katherine sighs, cutting the explanation short, "She knows Jackson. He told you about this place, didn't he?"

Hayley had mentioned that one of Katherine's cousins had a soft spot for her. You can't believe she'd been talking about Jackson. Hayley seemed decent. If Katherine didn't hate her so much, you think you'd get along as well as you did with Bonnie. Hopefully that creep kept his hands to himself.

"I mean, yeah, but I also know Rose."

The brunette gestures to the woman who exits the kitchen, leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed. She looks as unhappy as she did when she answered the door. Trevor had been surprised but Rose doesn't even ask why there's two Katherines standing in her living room.

"So, what?" Rose starts venomously, glaring at Katherine, "I suppose you expect us to get rid of that car for you?"

"Behave, Rose," Trevor reprimands.

"Behave? You're letting her in here like that isn't dangerous."

"I'm standing right here."

"Yeah, and you keep doing that," Rose retorts. Katherine scoffs as the older woman continues with Trevor, "What're you going to tell Tobias? What about when Jackson decides to come by? Or Sophia? What are you going to tell them?"

You look to Katherine as she narrows her eyes. She doesn't say anything else, and you note, you've yet to hear of a Sophia.

Trevor holds up a calming hand, "It's fine. We'll deal with it. She—They need our help."

Rose shakes her head, disapproving, and muttering under her breath, "God, if you die because of this..."

She walks away, leaving you all.

Trevor runs a hand over his hair, apologizing, "I'm real sorry about my sister. She'll come around."

"Will she?" Katherine asks rhetorically. Trevor's lips press together, seemingly agreeing.

"Why don't I show you where you'll be staying?" he says, guiding you and Katherine towards where Rose went.

Hayley stays on her spot on the couch. She doesn't need the tour.

Through the kitchen, Trevor leads you to a door that goes to the basement.

Once there, he pulls something on the sink in the small laundry room before pulling it up like a latch.

"What is this?"

"Bomb shelter," Katherine explains, pausing for a second. "Hidden bomb shelter."

Descending the ladder, you find yourself in a furnished room with a hall leading down to three rooms. This thing must be as big as the cabin above it.

"Wow," you say, still astonished by the resources Katherine has. Or well, the resources the wealthy have.

There's a living room, simple in design, and a door leading to the bathroom. The other three doors are closed, but you assume they're bedrooms.

"Hayley's the only one here, so there's a room for each of you," Trevor says. "If you need anything, just come upstairs. It's almost sunrise, but you guys settle down. Don't worry about the car, Kat. I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, Trevor."

With a smile, he leaves, climbing the ladder and closing the latch.

"How many of these do you have?" you ask Katherine.

She makes her way to one of the couches, sitting back with a sigh.

"Katherine," you call, repeating your question.

She looks to you. "I only know of a few, but this was our safest bet."

"Because of Trevor?"

"Yeah," she pulls off her shoes, lying along the couch.

"And we're safe here?" you ask, even as she makes herself comfortable. "Even with Rose? "

"Should be."

"Seriously, Katherine."

Katherine sighs, "Look, Elena. I may act like I know everything, but I don't. There's always a chance Rose will tell Tobias about us. But if she does, she's going to be putting Trevor in danger. And she won't do that. We can't stay here for long, but for now, you can relax."

You look at her, willing yourself to listen to her assurance.

Sighing as well, you walk over to the couch adjacent to hers, "Okay."

Your nerves aren't settled but for now you can at least pretend you're safe.

After a long moment, you ask, "Who's Sophia?"

"Huh?"

"Rose mentioned a Sophia. Said she might come by? Who is she?"

"Oh," Katherine rubs her eyes, and you think, you're tired too. "Jackson's older sister. He has three siblings. They don't live in the states. So, she must be state side."

"And what? Are you friends with her too?"

She scoffs, chuckling a bit, "Not in the least."

You nod, laying back a little. She doesn't elaborate, and for once, you don't mind that she doesn't.

Maybe you should be moving to one of the rooms, but you're comfy now, and you can't find the energy to get up.

You drift off.

-x-x-x-

"I wasn't in the wrong. You know that."

You wake to Hayley's voice. You're still in the living room and she's speaking to Katherine as she helps your twin with something on her arm.

Hayley sits on the coffee table attending to what you'd assume is a cut near Katherine's elbow.

"If you're going to bring this up," Katherine pulls away, "I can do this myself."

She must've gotten it from the explosion. Even that far away, the impact had been hard, and you'd been close to a car that had its windows shatter from it.

You rub your head as you sit up.

"Don't be stupid, Katherine," Hayley rebukes, pulling her arm back and continuing to clean it up. "I may have been stubborn about not proving anything to you, but I know Rebekah's told you what happened. And I'm sure you'd agree with me, even from her point of view."

Katherine's lips press together as she runs her tongue over her teeth. Her way of holding her tongue.

She glances at you, briefly making eye contact.

"Alexander was there," Hayley says, as if that explained something. "She wanted revenge and Caroline would've helped her sabotage that whole deal just to do it."

"So, you sabotaged it instead. Called the cops on everyone. How noble."

"No. She put everyone there in danger, and I was not about to be on the Cazadors bad side, just so your friend could get back at her ex."

"The problem with your plan was that you all ended up in prison," Katherine pulls her arm away, and Hayley lets her. "Elijah may have told you to do it, but you're the one who made that call. We were never friends Hayley. If you did the right thing then I don't understand why you're telling me this."

Hayley shakes her head, "You probably won't stay here long, but I wanted to know you understood. You would've done the exact same thing. She would've killed him. You know she would have."

Katherine tilts her head, her expression unchanging.

Hayley sighs as she gets up, taking the garbage from the first aid kit that she used. She offers up a smile when she sees that you're awake before leaving, going up the latch, and back into the cabin.

"What was that?" you ask, and Katherine sighs, her hard expression dropping.

She rolls her eyes as she runs her hand through her curls. "Don't tell her I told you this, but she's right."

"I don't even know what you guys were talking about," you say, but you have an idea. It must've been about how Rebekah, Caroline, and Hayley all ended up in Port Hill together. The way Katherine acted towards her, you figured she hated her and that she'd done something more horrible than blowing the whistle like Hayley had explained. But even if Rebekah (and Caroline) sounded like she'd (they'd) been in the wrong of whatever happened, it seems Katherine's hate had more to do with loyalty than anything.

You don't ask further.

"Hey."

You look up at the ceiling where Trevor has opened the latch.

He climbs down, less laid back in his demeanor than he had been just yesterday.

You immediately assume the worst, but he doesn't carry that, "you've been found" sort of panic. Getting to the couches, he bends over to pick up the remote to turn on the tv.

"Look at this," he says.

When it opens, the screen flickers to a news report.

Your heart drops.

In the frame is an aerial shot of a charred building. It switches to a night view, when the flames were still at its peak, before going back to what looks like a shot of the present. Like a before and after picture.

"— _the fire department had finally gotten the fire under control. Reports say the fire started with a bomb from one room, spreading to the two beside it before fire fighters were able to extinguish it completely. We haven't gotten any confirmation on the injured, but police say there are casualties. They've also given us as a suspect for this horrendous act of terrorism."_

A picture is put up, replacing the live camera. You almost think it's you, but that's not your mug shot.

" _Our suspect is named Katherine Pierce. She has brown hair, brown eyes, is 5 foot 7 inches and is 19 years of age. It's been reported that she, along with a number of other prisoners, have escaped from Virginia's Port Hill Penitentiary._

 _We're told to tell the public to beware. If you see anyone fitting this description, please call us. Do not approach or attempt to engage with this suspect. She is armed and dangerous."_


	21. Hurt Me With The Truth

**Chapter Twenty:** _ **Hurt Me With The Truth**_

 **A/N: Ah, this one's a long one. And a doozy. Get ready?**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

" _Hurt me with the truth, but never comfort me with a lie."_

 _-Unknown_

Your chest rises as you heave a deep sigh.

According to the newscaster, there would be more news on the way later today. That was hours ago. The hour following the initial report, though, you'd been shocked to see someone you recognized on the screen. Warden Carolyn Lockwood had appeared, answering questions regarding her "escapees led by Katherine Pierce." Apparently, the escape had happened as recently as three days ago rather than the crash that actually happened weeks before. She had sent out the report, hoping to "warn the public" and was shocked to hear of the bombing.

" _The police have said there are several fatalities, but one stood out. A woman from your prison."_

" _Yes, Sage Callaghan."_

"What?" you had wanted to exclaim. Sage had died weeks prior to the crash.

"Bitch," Katherine had muttered her disbelief, cursing some more. "She's really going to lie through her teeth."

" _And she was part of this escape that occurred under your supervision?"_ the host had questioned.

" _Yes. I'm ashamed to admit it, but the public needs to know. We found evidence in each of these prisoner's cells. Some have confessed into aiding their escape, they've been dealt with, but we urge the public to help us in catching them."_

You had watched as the screen turned up six different mug shots. Katherine Pierce. Sage Callaghan. Jules Brady. Keri Longsten. Hannah Vasiliev. Bonnie Bennett.

The 2nd escape team, except instead of you, it was Katherine.

What was Lockwood doing?

"You're still here?" Katherine's voice brought you back to the present where you'd been staring at the random news flashing on the channel.

"Huh?" you mutter.

A small worried crease formed between her brows. "What're you still doing here?"

"Waiting for more news about the bombing."

"Why?"

"Why? What do you mean 'why'?"

"Okay," her tone is dry. "I get why. But obsessing about it, isn't going to make it go away."

"I'm not obsessing." You aren't. You need to know what they know, so you can figure out what Lockwood is doing. "Why aren't you more concerned about this? Lockwood's framing you."

She sits beside you, taking the pillow you'd placed on your lap.

"You think I'd be this calm if I didn't know what I was doing?"

You squint, "So, you _always_ know what you're doing?"

She chuckles, "I wish."

"So, what are you not saying," you ask, impatiently, "Tell me."

"Well, first of all, Lockwood isn't the mastermind behind this. She's hardly one to destroy some random motel," she says. You want to rebut, but she doesn't let you. "Tobias is."

"How?"

"He must've gotten to her somehow. I'm betting blackmail. Probably about this crash, all the prisoners that escaped, and her lack of action to inform anyone of authority about it."

It's the only logical explanation for the blackmail. Otherwise, there would've been a much tighter manhunt for everyone, or Tobias would've already used that chip and gotten to Katherine while she was still in Port Hill, long before the failed transport.

"You really think Lockwood would just agree to blaming a small group of people? I mean, why didn't she say anything about the crash? Or tell people that there are literal murderers on the run?"

"I don't know," she bites her lip in thought. "What does she get out of putting me on the Most Wanted list?"

You think for a moment, "Well, more people looking for you. Not just the cops or the feds, even."

"Yes, and that helps Tobias too. If they find me, he'll know exactly where I'll be at all times."

"With the authorities once they catch you. But that doesn't explain the bomb. We could've died."

She turns contemplative, "I don't think so."

"Huh?"

"We weren't in that motel long, but if someone wanted to kill us, they could've easily done so."

"Tobias didn't want to kill you. Just send a message," you nod. "He really just wants that money."

"You heard him. I wonder who's giving him a hard time. I'd like to reward them for not caving into his bribe… or threat."

"Probably your grandfather's lawyer."

"Ha, probably."

Putting her (your) face on high alert, with lies, no less. What did he hope to achieve?

"But… if they planted the bomb they knew where you were. Why didn't they just take you?"

"Tobias doesn't have any leverage." Other than threatening her life, that is, but she sounds so sure. Like she wouldn't break even if they tortured her or something. Maybe she's just that stubborn—or petty—but you can't imagine trading your life just to prove a point.

"So, he made some," you conclude.

"Knowing him, he'll have some kind of fix for this if I agree to whatever terms he wants. He's trying to make sure I'm pushed into a corner so I'll have no choice but to do just that."

"And would you?" you ask, despite your doubt.

She gives you a look, proving your thoughts on her stubbornness, and you shiver at just _thinking_ of losing yet another sibling. But knowing Katherine, you can't imagine her actually dying either, because she is just _that_ stubborn.

"So, all that for money?" It's tragic, really, but for whom, Tobias, Katherine, or you—a bystander—you can't really tell.

"You'd be surprised what people do for money."

"But doesn't he have his own? I mean, not point out the obvious, but he isn't exactly living on the street."

"That's what I'm thinking. I don't know."

Even though you'd only dangerously encountered him once, if that's his only goal for all this then you almost pity him.

You look to her, realizing that even when she says she "doesn't know" the gears in her head are turning just as smoothly as when she does know.

You sigh, turning back to the television. There hasn't been any other updates on the motel. Or the six fugitives—minus Sage—running around after bombing said motel.

You rub your eyes, trying to get the sudden flash of the red head's hand clawing at your arm as she fell to her death out of your head. You could've sworn you already got rid of this nightmare. But Tobias had dug her up and placed the woman in a scene similar to her real death invoking it out.

"You know, out of all the crazy things that's happened since I got to Port Hill, your uncle digging up Sage and putting her in that motel as some kind of evidence, has to be the worst."

"What?" Katherine turns to you with a tilted head. "You think… You know, all they need to "confirm" that Sage died in that motel is a body and her DNA, right? It doesn't actually have to be her."

"Oh," you say, crossed between embarrassed and confident you'd jumped to the wrong conclusion logically. After everything, you have grounds to be that pessimistic.

"I mean, it'd be easier than digging her up," Katherine makes a face. You take solace in her tone because even she thinks it could be possible.

"See? Using a deceased body like that isn't that farfetched."

She waves her hand, "Whatever. I'd rather not talk about Sage."

"Okay, so what're we gonna do now that we'll probably be flagged down the second we leave this place?"

"We won't be "flagged down.""

"Why? Cause we'll dye our hair and chop it off, so we can't get recognized?"

Katherine's brows lower, "No. You've watched way too many movies."

"Well, then how? Trevor said he was getting rid of that car, right?"

"Yes, but there's a few in the garage out back. When we leave, we'll use one of them."

"And then?"

"We'll head to Mystic Falls."

The mention of your hometown has your pulse running up. _Shit,_ you are so not ready.

"Even with this bomb thing, and Tobias, and Lockwood, and the police breathing down our necks? How're you going to just let Tobias frame you like that?"

Katherine winces, "I'm not letting him do anything."

Technically, she isn't, but if she has Tobias nipping at her heels _this_ close, then why were you heading to Mystic Falls to talk to your family about John?

She eyes you for a moment, and you break your gaze by looking back at the tv. It really hasn't gone back to the bombing despite what the newscaster on screen had said.

What about the motel? How many casualties were there? And what about the rest of the "escapees"? How had Lockwood explained the others who hadn't been on that bus? Literally, all of them but Katherine should still be sitting in Port Hill. Why hasn't Lockwood released the crash accident? At this point, would she? And more importantly, if he doesn't get what he wants out of this whole fiasco, what does Tobias Pierce have planned for his niece?

You shake your leg, anxiously, and Katherine gets up. She doesn't say anything, just goes to her room, and closes the door.

Your lips pull down at her actions, but you don't get up.

A moment later, Katherine comes back with her laptop in hand.

"Okay, come on," she says, urging you to sit up.

"What?"

"Stop with this brooding."

"I'm not brooding."

"Great. First step done. Now, just stop worrying about this bombing, and worry about you. Freya hasn't called me back so, yes. Whether you like it or not, we're going to Mystic Falls. Here."

She puts the device on your lap.

"What am I looking at?"

"Johnathan Gilbert's Facebook account."

You glare at her.

"Wipe that look off your face. You don't feel prepared because you've been avoiding the Jeremy topic."

You flinch. Of course, she noticed.

"Well, guess what?" she continues. "We're not there to solve Jeremy's case or to clear your name. We're there to find out what Greyson, or Miranda, or Jenna knows about us. About John. And about Ilia."

You pout, knowing that she's right.

You cross your arms, "What do you want me to do with this then?"

"Research. Look through his, and your father's, and even Miranda's. There's bound to be something that you can find. If Johnathan had any kind of normal relationship with Ilia, there should be at least one picture of them together."

"How do we even know what she looks like?"

"We won't. Just find something that you can shove in your parents face when you demand them for answers."

"But this'll take forever," you whine a little, still dragging your feet.

"Just do it, Elena."

"Where are you going?" you ask when she turns to go up the ladder.

"Upstairs."

"You're not helping me?"

"No," she says simply, disappearing up the ceiling.

With a deep sigh, you glance back at the tv that now has the weatherman forecasting the weather, before you turn to the laptop in front of you.

This is going to be a long day.

-x-x-x-

At least an hour later, you find yourself gazing at a picture you remember. A tiny version of you and a cheerful John smile into the camera as you hold ice cream cones in your hands.

You'd been five then, and you remember he'd made you feel better.

" _Oh," he knelt then, rubbing the dirt off your hands, and blowing on them. "See? You didn't get hurt, don't cry."_

He'd even wiped off your tears before taking you to the ice cream parlour down the road.

To be honest, that's probably why you'd always preferred that store compared to the others. That one good memory with him left you with a good impression, even after all the bad he did years later.

The scowl on your face deepens, and you click on the next picture. You hate this. Sure, you don't deny that if you find something, this'll be useful, but you have every right to hate this, regardless.

After _another_ hour of pictures and posts, you don't think you've found anything useful. If you had, you must've missed it because nothing stood out to you. If Ilia had been sixteen when she got pregnant with you and Katherine, the pictures must be while they were in high school, and the small amount on John, Greyson, and Miranda's had nothing.

You groan inwardly, forcing yourself to stop shaking your leg.

 _What now?_ you think, before remembering. Katherine had said she researched the adoption and your biological parents. Maybe she left her research on this laptop. Maybe you can find something on them she might have missed, because you had done your own search as well. It'd be nice to physically compare something. Your photographic memory might even help put some things together.

Minimizing the browser, you open up file explorer.

"Whoa."

The desktop had five different folders on it, but the documents folder has more. _Much_ more.

How many files did she have on this?

You scroll through them, finding that some, if not most, of the files are named weirdly, they're coded and somewhat familiar. Where had you seen this before?

You frown in thought. The book? The book with the coded pages you couldn't figure out. The very same one that had inspired you to go to Lockwood for help when Sage and Jules had demanded—no, threatened your assistance on the escape.

"No way," you mutter. It still didn't make sense, but you're thoroughly surprised that you see yet another reminder of Port Hill.

You click on a file, only to come up with a pop-up that required a password.

You type in the password for the laptop, but you aren't surprised it's incorrect. That would be stupid, and Katherine is far from stupid.

Deciding to ask her about that later, you scroll through the files, looking at the ones with names you understand. There should be one for your parents.

Maybe filed under "Adoption?" You scroll through the A's. No.

"Bio-Parents?" Nope.

You pause seeing a file labelled, "Elena Gilbert."

You hesitate for a moment, knowing Katherine had learnt about you long ago but still feeling nervous of what she'd have filed away.

This is probably that research she had talked about. The one you're looking for.

You click on it, confirming your guess.

In the folder, a number of files came up; there were pictures, word documents, and separate folders.

You open the picture that read, "Birth Certificate."

A scan of a white, faded document showed up.

 _State of California. County of Sacramento. Certificate of Live Birth._

"Oh my god," you mutter. You'd never seen this before… err, well, of course you hadn't seen Katherine's, but you haven't ever seen yours either.

Most of it is blanked out, like someone deliberately covered names and signatures, but it read, _Katherine_ , with her last name blocked out. _Twin,_ like you'd suspected. _Mercy General Hospital. 4001 J St. Sacramento. California._

The names and signatures for the parents had been blocked as well, but the word "Father" had been hand-written, and it looks just like John's writing.

The pit that resided in your stomach, for a while now, falls deeper. You already knew it, but anything that further confirms your parentage makes your stomach turn.

You close it with disdain, opening another picture instead.

This time you recognize this picture. A younger you stands on the sidewalk, smiling big with a smaller Jeremy beside you, and both of your parents standing behind with grins mirroring yours. The house you'd grown up in is in the background. This was years ago, but…

It's a framed photo in your house, and something you know Greyson nor Miranda have never placed online.

How did Katherine get this?

You look at the folders. There's one on Greyson, one on Miranda, and one on Jeremy.

You think to open the former first, but then hear, " _You don't feel prepared because you've been avoiding the Jeremy topic."_

You admit, anything relating to him, you'd thoroughly avoided.

Groaning at that inner Katherine voice you'd somehow developed, you click Jeremy's folder. It has nothing to do with his case. Viktor had been murdered long before Jeremy, and even if she knew about you, you'd think she'd have bigger things to worry about than finding out that her twin was also getting framed for murder. By then she had probably gone to Port Hill already, so she would have no access to this laptop.

You tilt your head. _What is this?_

You figured that she would have had a picture, and some general information on your brother, but you don't recognize some of the file types, and there's about a dozen of them.

You open the first one and realize, from memory, that it's the case file on Jeremy's death. A scanned copy of the file Kol had given her to give to you. The one back at the lake house.

She'd been looking into this? But… hadn't she been in Port Hill by the time you were getting accused? No, you never did ask for specifics, like when she got there, but it feels improbable that she would be looking into Jeremy's murder. But she had.

What was one of the first things she asked you when you actually got to talk to her? At the Silo?

" _Whatever you were sent here for; did you do it?"_

Had she been checking to see if you really did kill him?

Your heart sinks. Everyone thought you did, some irrational part of you hopes she doesn't. Irrational, because she doesn't, right?

Your eyes narrow when you find that the other files can't be opened because the computer doesn't have the tools to do so.

 _Weird._

Scrolling further down the folder, you see several pictures with the same name.

A date.

This date? Isn't this the night of Viktor's death?

You click on one picture, half expecting it not to open as well but it does.

There's a low-quality grain to it but you can see that it's a surveillance picture, if the high angle is any indication. The setting is simple, and you realize it's a small diner, but it has very few people in it. The time stamp reads, _00:28:46._

Midnight. But this doesn't explain…

You lean in, but then realize that you can just zoom. In the corner of the frame in one of the booths, you recognize the unmistakable figure of your little brother. Sitting across from him is you.

 _Wait, that's not me._

You close your eyes for a moment, blinking a few times before looking again. You barely mutter your disbelief, "Katherine?"

What—What was she doing with Jeremy? They knew each other? A million questions dart through your mind, but you can barely grasp them, just as you can barely comprehend what you're seeing.

You'd gone from thinking Katherine of suspecting you for murder you'd been convicted for, and straight to absolute, utter confusion.

 _This doesn't make sense._

Folding the laptop, you stand, climbing up the stairs to look for Katherine.

She had answers. To questions you didn't even know to ask yet. She _had_ to have answers, otherwise your head is going to explode from the overload.

You hear her laughter from the front of the cabin, in the living room, and you head there.

When you step through the kitchen you see Katherine, standing behind the couch, as Trevor leans forward in her space, teasing. Flirting. He looks like he's just about to kiss her, but you interrupt.

This can't wait.

"Katherine."

They both turn to you. Katherine's smile falters from her face as she sees your expression.

"Did you find something?" she asks, removing her arms from Trevor's shoulders. He steps back, running his hand through his hair.

"Not exactly," you say, holding out the closed laptop. "You knew Jeremy?"

You ask this without your own consent. That's not what you wanted to lead with but that is the gist, isn't it? That tad bit of information that's making your head throb just thinking about it.

"Uh."

You watch her closely, but her expression doesn't change, no flash of guilt or twitch of regret. Were you wrong? Was that not Katherine? Had you and Jeremy gone to some random diner in the middle of the night two years ago and you'd somehow forgotten about it?

"Trevor, can you give us a second?"

The man nods, fixing his shirt, and walking out of the room past you. You hear the back door open and close.

"What'd you find?" she asks.

You come closer to her, unlocking the laptop and showing her the surveillance picture.

"This is…"

"One of your files, yeah. What…You know Jeremy?" you almost trip over your words, and you correct yourself. "You _knew_ him."

"You looked through my files."

"Yeah," you admit, "I did. Was I not supposed to?" _Are you hiding something?_

She has so many passwords on so many files, of course she's hiding something. The only question is, is she hiding any from you?

"No…" she trails off a little, staring at the picture, before correcting herself, "I mean, yeah."

"What?"

"Yes. I knew Jeremy."

"What?" you repeat, hearing her. You don't know what you expected.

She licks her lips, suggesting, "Why don't we sit down?"

"No. Just tell me how you knew him. Why were you guys meeting?" _Why didn't either of you tell me?_

Katherine sighs first. "Notice the date?"

"Viktor's death."

"I lied," Katherine nods, "I told the police that I'd gone to a club that night."

"But you met with my brother? How do you—" _know each other?_ "—What?"

"When I first looked into my adoption, I found you. Pretty early on, actually."

"Yeah, you said—"

"No, Elena. I _found_ you. I knew where you lived, where you went to school, who your parents were. I could've gotten into a car and went to Mystic Falls the second I found out, but I didn't."

"You said you didn't care to—"

"No," she rolls her head to one side, "and yes. When I found out I had a younger twin, I looked for you, but I wasn't lying when I said I wasn't looking for any kind of relationship."

You knew this. What you didn't know was that, "I'm younger?"

"By 11 minutes," she confirms, leaning onto the top of the couch and rubbing her shoulder.

You straighten a little. Is she… nervous?

"I wanted answers," she continues, shaking her head. "I thought you might have them. Jeremy told me otherwise."

"You spoke with him." Of course, she did. There's a surveillance picture of them at a diner.

"Yes. I called your house. He picked up. I told him who I was. We talked a little. I convinced him to meet me the next week, at that diner. That's why no one could place me at that club, I hadn't been there that night."

"You—He didn't tell me."

"I asked him not to."

You shake your head, rubbing you temple with one hand, and trying to focus on the more factual side of the conversation, "On the night of Viktor's death. _This_ is your alibi. Why didn't you use it?"

"I didn't think it was important."

"Not important?" you want to chuckle humourlessly.

"I wasn't a suspect when they asked. And then Jeremy..."

"Died," you breathe out deep, finishing. "But there's picture evidence. You still could've used this."

Katherine runs her hand through her curls, looking to you for a long moment.

"What?" you ask.

You don't understand her expression as she says, "I need to tell you something."

The words make your heart drop. She's still leaning on the back of that couch, casual, but she's looked away like she can't meet your eye. The way she's acting… This only makes you more uneasy. Do you want to know?

You don't answer aloud, but yes. Yes, you do.

"When I first spoke to Jeremy, I convinced him not to tell you about me. Not yet."

It's so unlike your brother, but he probably thought Katherine should introduce herself.

"I can't believe you guys talked. Why didn't _you_ tell me?"

She looks away, biting her lip.

"What?" you ask, confused. "What aren't you telling me?"

"We met up more than once."

"Okay."

"He eventually convinced me to meet you."

Despite the tone, you chuckle a little at how much you knew him, but you frown when you look to your twin.

She glances down, swallowing like she doesn't want to say the next part.

The dread hasn't left you. Is it only because Katherine isn't like this? Hesitant? Is there any other reason? Gut feeling, maybe?

"Okay, you're actually starting to scare me," you say, feeling a sense of déjà vu. You've said this before.

She had the same expression then too.

"Fuck," she stands on her feet, meeting your gaze.

She sighs.

"That night of the party."

"Party?" you question when she doesn't continue.

"You know what party I'm talking about. What night."

The only one you can think of right now is when you'd gotten blacked out drunk. Was that it? Jeremy had convinced her to meet you.

"You were—" you shake your head, thinking back, "—you were there?"

"Yeah…"

"That's when he wanted us to meet?" You think back to the day before. Jeremy had been excited about something. But then your parents came home.

"Yes."

"…and?"

Katherine is so blunt. Why is she so tentative?

"Elena, come on."

"What?"

"Goddammit, 'lena, why are you making this so hard?"

"Making what so hard? You were supposed to meet me. And what? Just tell me."

"Are you serious? I was there. The night your brother died. I was _there_ ," she repeats, and for some reason, that's when it hits you. What she's saying.

The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. She couldn't have. There's no way.

You swallow.

"W—Wait…"

"Jackson was there too, Elena. He followed me. Jeremy tried to tell him off. It all happened so quick—"

"What?"

The wind is knocked from your lungs.

You feel like someone just punched you in the gut.

 _"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"_

Your mind flashes back to when Katherine first started sounding like she cared. At Port Hill. In your cell. The first time she had gotten you to open up about Jeremy, she had asked you questions. Speaking to you like she knew you.

 _"Not like you did it, right?"_

You shake your head slowly, your expression wide in disbelief.

Back then, you had been ready to storm away. She hadn't known you. And now as you stare at her, the look you'd mistaken for sympathy was actually _guilt_.

"You—"

"It all happened so fast. I—"

You stare, unable to do anything but that.

"I tried to help him. That's why your DNA was all over him. On the weapon."

The police had found your blood on Jeremy, on the knife, but you had no cut big enough to lose that much blood. It had been unexplainable. Something the court decided came from the small cut on your head that you'd gotten since you were in the middle of the woods and so out of it.

"It was yours..." you say, suddenly feeling light headed.

You turn away, unable to look at her anymore. You feel Katherine's eyes on you and when you look, you feel the need to step back.

You don't move, but her eyes bore into yours, bare emotion you'd have responded to just a few moments ago now irritate you to no end.

"All this time…" you start, mortified.

"Elena..."

"No! You've been lying to me this whole time! How can you expect me to trust anything you say? I... Oh my god."

"I haven't been _lying_ to you," she says this somberly, but she might as well have spat it out.

Who did she think she was?

"Oh, because not telling me anything is _so_ much better."

"I—I didn't know how to tell you. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry about what happened to Jeremy but just let me explain."

"I don't want to talk to you."

You attempt to leave, but she grabs your arm.

"Don't you want to know what happened? You say you couldn't remember but I do. Let me tell you what happened."

"No! I—Just stop. I can't do this with you right now!"

You storm off.

You don't know where you plan on going, but you prefer anywhere than here.

Katherine doesn't try to stop you this time, or at least she doesn't get the chance to.


	22. Endless String Of Consequences

**Chapter Twenty-Two:** _ **Endless**_ _**String Of Consequences**_

 **A/N: Alright! Thanks for the feedback, guys. Let's get this show on the road. Much like Katherine should be, I'm kinda relieved that reveal is out of the way. I promised y'all you'd get answers. Here's to getting them all, eventually.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Katherine**

-x-x-x-

" _If only [you] could see the endless string of consequences that result from [your] smallest actions. But [you] can't know better until knowing better is useless."_

 _-Unknown_

 _Approximately 6 Months Ago._

"You're getting a cellmate."

"What?"

"Finally," Caroline says, unafraid to show her jealousy. "It's so unfair you get a cell to yourself."

Jealousy? More like contempt. She hates how—no, she hates _who_ arranged it for you, but it's not like _you_ were the one responsible for getting your good old cellie transferred to another block.

Rebekah sits beside you as you continue filing your nails. She leans on one hand as she watches, repeating even though it's unnecessary, "You're getting a cellmate, Kat. What do you think that means?"

As a prisoner, you spend most of your days in a cell.

Being by yourself for all that time?

It gets boring real fast, real quick.

You shrug, "When is she coming?"

"You think Isobel is making it happen?" Caroline interrupts with a lowered voice, and Rebekah decides to answer her instead.

"After what happened last time?"

When you'd refused to follow that raging dictator's rules to a T? Yeah, that last time.

"Of course, she is. I'm surprised she hasn't publicly _shamed_ you instead. You know, she's done that at least a dozen times since we've gotten here," Rebekah cringes.

"Yeah, you've said," you say. It isn't easy to make Rebekah cringe like that, she is a Mikaelson after all, but both she and Caroline have told you this just about as many times.

Saying it another isn't going to stop you from working with the woman. And as cruel as these "public shamings" sound like, you've been here long enough, and you have yet to witness it yourself. Maybe she stopped.

"So, this cellmate?" you steer, dropping the Isobel topic before it can escalate into another bout of _You-can't-trust-Isobel_ warnings. They know you already know, and as much as they warn you about it, they also know why you're doing what you're doing. "What's her name?"

"Some bird from southern Virginia, named uh… Elena Gilbert, I believe."

You falter only slightly as you continue polishing your nails as if your heart hasn't just dropped to your feet.

Caroline's eyes narrow at the _brief_ twitch of your hands, and if Rebekah wasn't lying down behind you, she'd be on your back about what that meant.

Both know you way too well, so you speak, trying to detract Caroline from her suspicion.

You wrinkle your nose, "Gilbert? She wouldn't happen to be related to Connor, would she?"

Connor Gilbert. One of Caroline's many exes.

She makes a face and you know you've succeeded.

"Please, don't remind me."

Chuckling, you turn around to Rebekah. "When is she supposed to come?"

"In a week," she says absentmindedly. "Friday, I'm sure of it."

You nod, filing the information away before effortlessly moving onto something else not related to your long-lost family members. Long lost family you haven't even really told them about.

' _Well, if this really is Elena, they'll find out soon enough, won't they?'_ you think, shaking away the overwhelming trepidation.

The following week, you'd internally driven yourself mad. As the days crawled by, you realize you aren't ready. You've never met her, but you look exactly the same, and the thought of the inevitable questions she comes with makes you sweat.

This isn't like you, but you're nervous, and Rebekah is starting to get suspicious.

How are you going to face Elena and muster up enough lies to keep afloat?

No.

You can do this.

But you need more time. And some quiet. You need to collect your thoughts. But how are you—?

You stop short, noticing Bonnie Bennett walking by.

"Bonnie," you call, and she turns around.

You speak before you can talk yourself out of it, "Have you talked to your grams, lately?"

The younger girl frowns at you, trying to guess what you're doing but you can tell she's already offended.

"What did you say to me?"

"I said," you repeat, feeling something in your throat at what you're saying. Bonnie's grandmother just passed away; you had found the girl crying the other day. You hadn't said anything then. "Have you talked to your grams? I thought you said she was a witch or something."

Her hands curl into fists.

"Just summon her spirit or whatever. I'm sure she'll show up."

"If this is your way of condoling someone," she steps forward, in your space and surprisingly threatening for someone so small. Other than the meetings for the escape, you don't talk to each other. "I suggest you work on it."

"And I suggest you step back," you say, pushing her away.

When she looks up to you, you see her anger, and without explanation, you charge forward, landing a left hook on the right side of the girl's face.

A crowd forms, that warning whistle from other prisoners comes, and though the fight doesn't last long, neither of you let up until the guards come.

They try to break it up, but you attack them too.

When you get to Alaric, and then Lockwood, you end up exactly where you wanted to be.

Solitary, and as far away as you can get from Elena Gilbert when she arrives.

-x-x-x-

 _Present._

Elena runs out of the front door so fast, it doesn't even close behind her.

"Elena!" you call.

You run after her.

Seeing her go around the cabin to the back, you round the corner, and collide head on with someone.

Trevor.

"Whoa," he steadies you, "what happened?"

"Did you see where Elena went?" you ask, ignoring his concern.

"Yeah," he nods, pointing to the back, towards the woods.

This idiot.

There are wolves in these woods.

Without another word, you go where he directed, not bothering to answer his next question.

You go through the trees, following a small clear path.

You see Elena's figure up ahead.

"Hey!" you catch up with her, grabbing her arm, but then step back when you see the tears streaming down her face. "Elena…"

She jerks away, angry. "Why are you following me? Go away!"

"Listen—"

"No! I'm done listening to you. You knew—I can't…" she trails off, holding her head as she collects the million thoughts running through her mind.

"I know you don't want to hear me out—"

"You're damn fucking right, I don't. How could you?! I can't even look at you! Don't you get that?! I _don't_ want to talk to you. Leave me alone!"

You'd expected this. Expecting otherwise would've been outright delusional but hearing her say it out loud? It hurts in a way you couldn't have prepared for.

You flinch.

She turns around.

"There are wolves in these woods," you reason.

If she didn't want to talk to you, she can still do so in the safety of the cabin.

"Great!"

"Elena…"

"Stop. Fucking. Following me!"

You stop, swallowing back the need to insist further, and she walks off.

You only notice that she still has the laptop in her hand when she's a good distance away but by then you've gotten the message.

' _Shit.'_

Your shoulders lift as you inhale and let out a deep breath, rubbing the space between your brows.

 _Ring. Ring._

You blink a little.

 _Ring. Ring._

Pulling out your phone, you read the number. Freya.

Taking a second, you huff out another breath before answering, "Hello?"

She wouldn't call if it wasn't important.

" _Katherine. Hey. Are you okay?"_

Your lips pull down slightly as you look towards where Elena went. You shake your head. That's not what she's asking. "Um, yeah. Why?"

" _The news."_

You sigh. "Right."

There's a pause. _"I wanted to check up on you."_

"All sunshine and rainbows here. No worries."

" _Okay,"_ she sounds skeptical, but she says, _"good. Also, I've found something."_

"Something?"

" _I've found Robero."_

You straighten a little, your entire demeanor perking up, "You found him? Where is he?"

" _Well, actually, I found his last known location. Picked out a few surveillance pictures. I'll send you the address, but I don't think you should go."_

"What? Why not?"

" _That news for your arrest is fresh. You should lay low for a while."_

You kick at the base of a small tree, understanding her concern, "How long ago were the surveillance pictures you saw?"

" _Yesterday."_

"Yesterday? And you want me not to go?"

" _It's not that I don't_ want _you to. It's that I'm suggesting you don't."_

"We've been searching for this man for _months_ , Freya," you justify, "I need to find him. Before he disappears on me again."

He's literally the McGuffin to your entire case.

" _Look, I know I can't stop you. So, just be careful, okay?"_

"When am I never?"

Freya scoffs, _"I'll text you the address."_

When she hangs up, you linger in your spot for a bit longer. You look out to the woods. Elena is long gone, but there is nothing around here for miles which guarantees her return. Maybe.

She needs some time. You can explain to her what happened when she's ready. For now, you need to go and find Robero. If she doesn't come back, you'll ask Trevor to go and look for her.

Your phone dings, and you look at it to see the address.

With a nod to yourself and one last look, you turn around to leave.

You'll talk to Elena when you get back.

-x-x-x-

A couple hours later, you sit in a car in front of the Marriott Hotel in the city.

You'd gone inside already, pretending to be a guest and checking out the lobby area, before coming back to the car.

You constantly look around, watching the people and other cars go by, a little paranoid inside a crowded area.

It's harder to find you, sure, but that just means it's harder to spot anyone coming after you too.

You look back down at your phone, reading some information Freya had relayed on the way here.

 _I took the liberty to try and find which room he might be in. A man named "John Roberts" is staying on the 12_ _th_ _floor, room 1210. He's the only guest that's been there for months._

Been here for months? A bit of a mixed bag, really, because on one hand, if he is Robero and he's hiding out, he would want to stay out of sight for that long. On the other hand, who stays that long if they're on the run?

Either way, that just means you _have_ to check it out.

But only when you see that it's safe.

Play it smart, not stupid. You've been waiting this long, what's another hour?

You drum your fingers on the steering wheel, waiting.

Robero had been spotted on a street camera that you see now, going into this specific hotel. You'd avoided looking at this same camera, making sure whatever footage it takes will be inconclusive.

What are you waiting for?

Robero. To see if he'll decide to come out today, but also to check if there's anyone other than you out here, watching. Freya had mentioned that this Marriott Hotel had no ties to the Pierces, or Franklin & Pierce, or any other well-known organizations that could be tied to Tobias.

Viktor's ex-butler wouldn't be hiding out in there, otherwise.

' _Unless,'_ your mind supplies, _'That's exactly what Tobias is wants you to think.'_

The thought is drowned out by the look of Elena's eyes, accusing you of betraying every little piece of trust you've built with her throughout these months.

You shake your head to try and get rid of the image but it's persistent.

' _Dammit,'_ if she'd only listened to your explanation.

How were you supposed to tell her before all this? Were you supposed to meet her in Port Hill that first day and say, _"Hey, I know you're innocent because I'm the reason your brother died."_?

You didn't know how to tell her. And if how she found out is any indication, you still don't.

But… saying that, feels like an excuse.

You know better than to think it's anything but.

Closing your eyes, you will the thoughts away.

You're not at the cabin right now, and you need to focus on Viktor, and Tobias, and Robero at the moment.

You look up just in time to see a figure. A familiar figure.

A man walks down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. He stands out because of the closed full-length umbrella he's holding—it's not raining.

He's here. _Robero's_ _here._

You frown at the sight though, as he stops for a moment, looking around and then walking into the Marriott.

' _Shit,'_ what do you do? Go after him? You haven't been here long enough to see if anyone else is watching. Everyone around the area looks normal and you haven't spotted any lingering vehicles that could suggest some kind of tail.

You'd told Freya you'd be careful. But you also told yourself, you needed to get to Robero before Tobias did.

Biting your lip, you pull out the business card you'd taken from Damon Salvatore's office, and dial the number. He's out there looking for the butler. He'd want to know.

The phone rings. No one picks up. You leave a voicemail.

"Hey, I found Robero. I'll text you the address."

You do just that, looking out to the hotel in case the man decides to come back out. He doesn't.

It's another 10 minutes of twirling a curl between your fingers and forcing yourself not to tap your foot like Elena so often does, before you decide to get out of the car. You pull your hat lower, hiding your face enough without looking too suspicious.

When you get through the spinning doors of the hotel, you're met with the cool conditioned interior of the building.

People loiter about in the lobby. Some sit on the lounge chairs, while a few others with bags in their hands talk to the reception desk.

There's security on the right where the elevators are located, so you take a seat instead, picking up a magazine.

You open it, using the top to peer at the surrounding area.

"Yeah, I can't believe Jenny. She's fucking late! How are we supposed to start this surprise party if she won't even open up?" a woman sitting adjacent to your seat complains into her phone, thoroughly annoyed and loud enough for the whole lobby to hear.

Some businessman is sitting a few couches down, and a family of three are on anther section of couches teasing each other about something.

There's a poster on the wall, informing visitors of cameras and telling them, " _For security purposes, please keep your key card and visitor's pass with you at all times."_

Glancing at the front desk, you note that the gentleman in his red uniform is checking his watch. Shift change soon? Most likely.

Perfect.

With a sigh, you look at the magazine you opened. Flipping through the scandals, you find an ad for a spa you've been to. Your shoulders relax a little at the picture. After you clear your name (it's not even a question if you will or will not, because you will), you are going to one of these as soon as you step out of that court room.

After another 20 minutes or so, just as you suspected, the front desk changes hands, and conveniently, so does the security. A girl this time, stands at the reception with a smile on her face.

Leaning over, you get Jenny's-pissed-off friend's attention. She's still on the phone. "Hey, sorry to bother you, but do you happen to have the time?"

The woman glares at you, pointing condescendingly at the very visible clock on the wall of the lobby.

"Oh! Thank you," you feign, smiling warmly at her all the same.

Getting up, you go to the desk.

"Hi," you greet, a wide ditsy smile Caroline uses on unsuspecting people on your face. "So, like, my friend, Jessica over there. She's really pissed Jenny won't come out of her suite. Is there any way you can call her? Like fake an emergency just to get her down here or something?"

"Uh, sorry, we can't fake emergencies."

"Jessica said she tired knocking on her door, but she just won't open up. It's her birthday, she needs to celebrate it with her friends and family, not stay cooped up and sad because her boyfriend dumped her the day before her birthday. You know, he was cheating on her?"

The girl's smile falters at your rambling, "Sorry to hear that."

"Thanks, but Jess says maybe Jen will open the door if I go, but security won't let me through to the elevator if I don't have a hotel card or a visitor's pass."

"You want a visitor's pass?"

"Yes! Yes, please. I would be so grateful, Jordyn," you say, reading her name tag. "My name is Brooke Wellington."

She nods, typing something on the computer.

"What floor did you say your friend was at?"

"Uh, I just got here. Jess?" you turn around to where the woman should be sitting but she's gone. Perfect. "Oh, dammit. She didn't tell me."

"Jennifer Gad?" Jordyn asks.

"Uh," you shake your head, taking a shot in the dark. "No."

"Kulter?"

Your face lights up like you know this person, but you do recognize the surname from "Jessica's" 20-minute complaint to whoever she was talking to on the other side of the phone.

"Alright," the reception girl nods, printing out a tag and handing you the small clip.

You thank her before you go, smiling at the security who eyes your tag and presses the elevator button for you.

When you get in, pressing the floor button for 12 and you heave off a relieved sigh as the doors slide—someone juts a hand in the way, opening the doors again. A man in a suit gives you an apologetic nod before going in and pressing the number 3.

You refrain from groaning out loud.

When the 3rd floor comes, the man gets out, but two other men come in pressing the floor for 10.

You want to tap your foot, but you don't.

A woman comes in at 5.

You make sure to keep your head down, in case any of them recognize you, but it's 2 _dings_ up on the 7th floor when you realize something isn't right.

You straighten a little and the man beside you moves suddenly.

You grab his arm, pushing him away.

The two standing in front spin around. The man hits you dead-on at the left side of your torso eliciting a shout as blinding pain shoots up from it.

He does it again before you even get the chance to recover and an arm comes around your neck.

' _No.'_

You plant your feet on the ground, so you can slip away, but the man hits you again.

The entire left side of your body feels like jelly.

Your vision is blurry.

You can't breathe.

 _'Not like this.'_

The woman covers your mouth with something as you struggle.

You gasp and before you even realize it, the chloroform is already flooding your senses.

You blink at the dark spots before they expand, leaving everything to fall away.


	23. Life Has Taught You

**Chapter Twenty-Three:** _ **Life Has Taught You**_

 **A/N: AHH! Sorry for being late. I've usually posted Mondays, eh, but this chapter just wouldn't happen. Elena's thinking too much. I tried to condense it and make it coherent but well… here's the result.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

 _"Life has taught [you] that you can't control someone's loyalty. No matter how good you are to them, doesn't mean they'll treat you the same. No matter how much they mean to you, doesn't mean they'll value you the same. Sometimes the people you love the most, turn out to be the people you can trust the least."_

 _-Trent Shelton_

"I didn't kill, Jeremy."

You say this for the first time without that cloud of doubt you've always had, nor any of the tears that you feel well up at the thought. You cried yesterday; you've exhausted all your tears.

You lay in bed, tired and numb, with the former due mostly to your lack of sleep.

You glance at the laptop on the bedside table, glaring at it a little.

You had found that most of the files are encrypted when you'd gone through the entire thing a few hours ago… no, that was yesterday.

 _Yesterday,_ you'd been so confused. Your thoughts had bombarded you so much your head hurt. Questions from your brain fired at breakneck speed, and you answered them for yourself because nothing else would make sense.

How could Katherine do this? Why would she do this?

How could she not tell you? What else is she hiding?

Did she expect you to never find out?

Would she have framed some other unsuspecting person in order to avoid blame?

Did Katherine care about you in _any_ capacity? Was everything all a lie?

Had she not wanted you to clear your name like she would hers?

Are you only here because she felt _guilty_?

With Jeremy's death you'd lost everything; your life, your parents, your aunt, your brother. And with that, you'd felt so lost.

 _So. Lost._

All your life, you'd relied on your memory, and yet this one significant event—maybe the most important event in your life, you couldn't even muster a scrap of recollection. You felt like you'd never get the answers. Like they existed but would forever be lost in a sea of black.

You thought however impossible, if you could just find out what happened that night, you'd finally be able to move forward and find all that you've been searching for.

But getting the answer?

They say, "Be careful what you wish for," but you never thought that the truth could hurt this much.

 _You've been feeling so lost, Elena. Did you really expect the answer to be any different?_

Facing your parents after waking up to Jeremy's dead body? Having to defend yourself for something you didn't even remember doing? Going to court to be convicted guilty?

Those had been hard, but you'd survived them, even if you had come out with less than you started with.

You'd accepted that life would never be the same again but this…

You thought estranged parents disowning you hurt, try being betrayed by your sister, losing her to her own lies. Heck, did you even have her to begin with? Did Katherine just feel guilty about her involvement with Jeremy? Was saving you from the crash just her way of taking pity?

Like you've said, you would've never survived.

You take a deep shaky breath.

You never _really_ questioned why she kept you with her, did you? Too caught up in the way being a fugitive kept hitting you with curveball after curveball before _this_ happened.

You shake your head, getting up and opening the closet to the room.

There are a few pieces of clothing inside that Trevor had given you. You remember seeing a small duffle bag and once you locate it, you find yourself stuffing some clothes, that laptop, and even a few essentials from the bathroom.

You can't stay here. You don't want to stay here.

And as much as you don't want to go there, you know just where you should go next.

-x-x-x-

When you step out of your room, you glance at Katherine's door.

You hesitate for a moment—

Yesterday, you'd realized something.

It's never been about you.

Port Hill, the escape, Isobel, Sage, and Lockwood.

Katherine had gotten there first, and each person you encountered, from Lockwood's prejudice to Caroline's friendship, you could attribute them to knowing Katherine before even meeting you.

Maybe you've been feeling so out of depth because all that you've faced, all the things that keep piling onto your plate; they aren't _your_ problem. Not really. Each one tied to Katherine in some way or another. God, even _Jeremy's death_ , the event that derailed your life? Yup, even that's not about you. (Not to say, you want it to be. God, no.)

You swallow the lump in your throat.

" _How could she do this?"_ you ask yourself for the thousandth time.

You question this. Question everything that's happened since you'd first stepped into Port Hill, because you'd been warned.

" _There's a possibility that you may have been honest with me when we made that deal,"_ Lockwood's parting words had been, " _but given Katherine's disposition to lie, I wouldn't bet on it."_

You had been warned, by the Warden of Port Hill, by Kol, and even by Jules.

" _Last I checked Katherine wasn't the type to be singing kumbaya."_

You should've known.

Is that on you? Definitely.

For trusting her.

For believing she had your back when really, she'd already stabbed you where it counts the most, months in advance.

You hesitate for a moment—but that moment is over in a second and that anger that's been boiling up just under your skin returns.

You face forward with determination, moving to the ladder and climbing it.

-x-x-x-

"Good morning, Elena."

You greet Trevor with the same words—it's really not that early, and though he looks like he's done his breakfast (or maybe that's brunch), he stays for a bit.

"Um so, I'm going to be heading out," you announce and then ask, "Can I borrow a car?"

"Huh?" he looks confused, "Aren't you going to wait for Katherine. Has she come back?"

You glance at him as you peer at the food on the table. Maybe you should eat before you go.

"No?" you say, uncertain.

After running into the woods yesterday, you'd found a spot with a stream and a small waterfall. You don't know how long you'd been there, but Trevor had retrieved you, taking you back to the cabin, citing wild wolves. You have a feeling Katherine made sure he went out to look for you since you wouldn't have gone back with her, but when you reached the cabin, only Rose and Hayley were there.

"I'm not sure," you reply.

You hadn't checked her room, and if there's one thing you don't want to do right now, it's facing her.

"She said she was going to be back last night but the car she took isn't in the garage."

You sit, a little relieved she hasn't come back yet, which only means you won't run into her. "I didn't actually check."

"Do you have her number?" Trevor asks, persisting, "Can you call her?"

He's so concerned you want to flinch.

If Katherine is anything, it's that she's more than capable of taking care of herself. Of pretty much anything, if you're being honest. Make a deal with the devil (Isobel), and keep it? Plan an escape? Survive a bus crash? Stay in hiding? Lie to your face?

How else could she have looked at you straight and lied, if she wasn't so _capable_?

"Are you guys together?" you ask, pulling out your phone. She never talked about a boyfriend.

"Huh? Me and Katherine? No. We're just friends."

You nod, going through your contacts.

Friends. But you'd caught them almost kissing. Somehow, you get the feeling that he's in love with her.

Maybe it's the subtle, yet fearful concern. Or maybe it's just the way he's looking at you, like Jackson did before he figured out who you weren't.

You make a face thinking back to that encounter.

It hadn't occurred to you till later in the night, too preoccupied with the knife Katherine had stuck in your back but you'd kissed him. You'd _kissed_ _**Jackson**_ _._

Even now, you think you just might throw up.

You press your knuckles to your lips and resist the urge, but it doesn't quell that rumbling in your gut that you'd unknowingly exchanged spit with the man who murdered your brother in cold blood.

And Katherine had known.

" _You trust Katherine?"_

Jackson had obviously known who you were, and who Jeremy was to you.

" _You don't even know what she's done."_

Well, now you do.

You shake your head, having lost your appetite but still deciding you're going to have to bring something for the road. You don't have money.

Adhering to Trevor's request, you glance down to see that you had gotten a text from Katherine yesterday.

" _Have a lead on Roberto, don't wait up,"_ is all it reads.

You show it to Trevor, before dialling the number.

"She went out to find him by herself," Trevor murmurs, and you get that he's talking to himself.

If he was so concerned, why didn't he go with her? She didn't even tell him what she was leaving for, which only confirms your guess that he probably is in love with her and she _definitely_ doesn't feel the same.

Or at least, something to that effect.

The phone rings and you wait until it goes to the end, and then it hangs up on its own. Burners don't exactly have voicemail.

"She's not answering."

The man sighs, nodding a little, and then standing up. "Okay, can you just tell me if she calls."

"Um, sure thing," you say apathetically.

After yesterday—after she chased you into the woods—you suspect that she'll call.

The only thing is, right now, you couldn't care less if she did.

If anything, she should call Trevor. It might appease his worry to know she'll be back and undoubtedly, _that_ much closer to clearing her name.

"So, that car?" you remind him before he leaves. "I'll return it, I swear."

"Oh, sure thing. Give me a sec."

He leaves, disappearing in the living room, presumably to retrieve the keys.

Shoving a piece of bacon in your mouth, you decide to at least make yourself a bagel.

Halfway into the toaster toasting your bread is when you huff out a frustrated sigh.

 _Katherine._

No, of course, even after figuring out she's been lying to you since _before_ you even knew she existed, Katherine's still commanding your concern.

Pulling out the phone again, you call, and when she doesn't pick up, you leave her a text.

" _Hey, where are you?"_ you type out.

Trevor comes back just before the bread jumps out of the toaster.

Where did they keep the keys? In another state? You don't ask why he took so long.

"Here," he says, handing you a small key chain. "That's for the black sedan. There's a button on the visor to open the garage door when you go out. And here."

He hands you a card and you realize it's an I.D.

 _Virginia. Driver's License. Tatiana Jenson._

"It's for Katherine, but I figure it works for you too," he smiles, all warm and friendly. "You might need it."

"Oh," you say, thoroughly surprised that he's thought of this. But then again, he hides people in this cabin, it's his job to think of this. Regardless, he didn't need to. "Thanks."

"Can I ask where you're going?"

You look to him, pausing from spreading some butter on your bagel.

"I'm going home," you admit as overwhelming dread hits you like a ton of bricks.

You swallow it back.

"Back to Mystic Falls."

-x-x-x-

Before you left the garage, you moved your hand to check your phone again but then decided better of it.

Now, 6 miles away from the cabin, you look at your phone with a forceful huff, and note that Katherine hasn't replied.

You pull over to the curbside, jabbing each digit of her number before you pause.

There's a doubt you feel, a doubt you don't completely trust, a doubt that she had enjoyed watching you run around in circles.

Why would you run after her now? Besides, you have somewhere to go, and you need to tell at least Jenna what you'd found out.

" _Don't wait up,"_ Katherine's text had said, and for once, you don't feel the need to defy her wishes.

The last time you'd ran after her, you ended up kissing Jackson and—

In all honesty, Katherine didn't need help.

If anything, the people in her way needed help _from_ her.

You mean for that to be contemptuous, but it only simmers down any urges to follow her.

Katherine is so adept; you've questioned more than once if she needed your help.

Just last week, you'd been stewing over your early bout of a midlife crisis, wondering what to do, and where to go, and how to do anything you might come up with. None of it questioned if Katherine, who truly has an abundance of resources, actually needed your help.

Maybe you'd been too afraid to ask then because you already knew the answer.

And besides, how many times has Katherine saved your life? You might as well count the entirety of the last couple weeks, because you wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her.

You groan at the thought.

Katherine really doesn't need you.

(You push away the reminder that she isn't the only that saves you, it works the other way around too, because if you hadn't been there, Penny could've easily succeeded in her half-baked plan...probably.)

You had yourself convinced you could help her with her case, when she already had all the answers to yours.

And right now, she's out there figuring out all the answers to hers. To where Robero is.

If you had to have certain faith about something, you would have no doubt that she'll succeed in this.

She doesn't _need_ your help.

And after this—after Jeremy, it's much clearer than ever, that she never did.

-x-x-x-

"I didn't kill Jeremy."

You say this for the second time with certainty.

Because you couldn't have, because you wouldn't have, and because you _didn't_.

You squint, turning with the road and seeing the sun rising in the horizon. It gives off a warm orange glow to your surroundings, bringing new light to the world. Kind of like this new light being shed on the events regarding Jeremy's death.

It feels peaceful, or at least it _should_ feel peaceful.

You roll your eyes.

That should bring you relief. That should ease all the tension you feel about this whole situation.

It still doesn't.

Ever since Jeremy's death, nothing's been peaceful.

As much as you constantly wished Katherine would admit to feeling some sort of mutual disarray to the world slowly falling apart around you, you had found some semblance of tranquility when she was around. Even when you didn't know what to do—mind you, that's more often than not—she did, and well… you'd counted on her for that.

You'd _trusted_ her for that.

Maybe a bit too much. Because she _did_ know the answer to all your life's problems.

All this time, you'd hoped she didn't think you were a murderer. All this time she _knew_ you weren't a murderer.

She knew exactly what happened to Jeremy.

You're not naive enough to assume she meant for his death, but what kills you—what betrays you, is that she never told you.

Never mentioned that, " _Hey, you're innocent and I know exactly why_."

Never spoke out to say, _"By the way, you can clear your name, your consciousness, and_ all _your doubt because I know exactly what happened."_

Your own logic supplies, _'Maybe if you'd just listened to her now, Elena.'_

Maybe then, you'd get those answers you'd been so lost and desperate about.

But…

Was it weak to say, you'd been so shocked and so hurt, you wouldn't have been able to sit through her explanation—her _excuses_ , on why she couldn't bring up that she knew what happened to Jeremy? That she'd been there? That she'd goddamn, fucking witnessed the entire thing? That she'd soaked Jeremy with enough of her DNA that everyone thought it was you?

Your thoughts start out dejected before spiralling into your anger again, because, how could she? How could she keep this? How could she not tell you? How could she not tell _somebody_ that the girl they're accusing had nothing to do with her brother's death?

How could she lie to your face, insist your innocence, watch you drive yourself _crazy_ , encourage you to look into Jeremy's case file, when _all this time_ she knew that the answers you were looking for weren't in there at all?!

You grip the steering wheel, taking a breath.

No.

You steady yourself.

Shaking your head, you rub it again as if the first hundred times helped.

-x-x-x-

The welcome sign to Mystic Falls looks the same.

Going through the town line made you nervous. Sitting in your car down the street of where Jenna's house is? This scares the fuck out of you.

You breathe out, rubbing your hands to try and calm down.

You've done this before. You know this entire neighbourhood like the back of your hand, and that's not only because you grew up in this small town, but because your head likes to store this information in vivid pictorial detail.

You glance down the unusually empty street. You've snuck into Jenna's house before.

That one time she forgot her keys at work?

Or that other time you and Jeremy planned her surprise party?

That time, you'd even had to haul some things in through the back window.

This is easy. This is cake.

And you were right.

You stand in Jenna's kitchen. It's midday. You wonder if she's at work, but you hear a creaking upstairs indicating she's home.

' _God, I feel like a home invader.'_

Which technically, you are.

You try to decide how best to go about this. Jenna doesn't live with anyone else. You don't want to spook her, but it's kind of inevitable. It's not like you can just knock on the front door.

You hear her come down the stairs.

Whether because you had made some noise or Jenna somehow has some radar, she heads straight to the kitchen.

You almost trip over your own feet when she comes through the threshold, brown eyes widened.

"Elena?"

Your lips lift half-heartedly, sheepish like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

"Hey, Jenna."

Her expression drops at the sight of you, and your heart drops with it, but then she jumps forward in a hurry.

"You can't be here," she hisses, afraid, as she grips your shoulder like she wants to shove you far, far away from here.

Of course, you shouldn't be here. You should still be in Port Hill, but before you even reply, a man in a uniform comes in from the hall.

His face shows his bewilderment, which is quickly replaced with recognition.

You freeze.

"Elena Gilbert."

He pulls out his gun, pointing it to you.

"Stay right where you are!"

-x-x-x-

 **A/N: These two sure like to run away from their problems. Clearly, they need to work on it. Or they need some therapy. Honestly, that might help.**


	24. As Dead As Yesterday

**Chapter Twenty-Four:** _ **As Dead As Yesterday**_

 **A/N: Alrighty, missycole, I gotchu. Monday it is.**

 **Also, I haven't said it in a while but missycole, call. me. random, guest, and mmlife, thanks for taking the time to review/comment on the last couple chapters. Ya'll are the best.**

 **Also, if anyone is even remotely arsed, I switched out last chapter's quote since it made more sense. Does it make a difference? *** _ **shrugs**_ *** Anyhow.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Katherine**

-x-x-x-

 _"It'll leave you feeling hollow and helpless, and there is where you'll stay. Ain't it funny, child, [it] sometimes leaves you as dead as yesterday."_

 _\- Zakk Wylde_

 _You feel it and you gasp._

 _The pain. It blossoms, slow and sharp, from your left, just above your hip._

 _Your lips part. Another gasp._

 _You look to Sage's face. A fierce victory in her eyes._

 _You glance down, her hand grasping something awkwardly at your side. Your brain is starting to catch up, quicker this time._

 _You attempt to push off, but Sage pulls you closer. Tighter._

 _You grunt. Whimper, really._

" _It's not fatal," she says while all you can see is red; her hair._

 _Your face contorts. She turns the knife. You grit your teeth._

" _But it will haunt you._ **I** _will haunt you."_

 _There's noise around you. You barely hear it. The woman rips the knife from your side, and you think that hurts more than anything._

 _You gasp._

Your eyes shoot open, and your face scrunches up at what you feel. The pain in your side is as real as the memory when Sage first stabbed you.

You reach over.

A shaking hand is soaked the second you make contact and you whimper at the touch.

' _Shit.'_

Sage had been right.

She may be dead, but she wasn't lying. Despite having healed on the surface more than twice now, this thing is going to haunt you till the day you die. ( _Today_?)

"Dammit," you murmur, grasping your hand with the other.

It doesn't help.

Blinking, you focus on your surroundings.

You sit in a chair, unhindered. Where your chair is located though, you shiver.

It's cold.

You lick your lips, realizing that the cut on it has to be related to this bloody taste in your mouth.

You glance around with a heavy head, first noting the empty chair in front of you.

You're in a kitchen, an empty industrial one. It has all the structures of a kitchen; the shelves, the stainless-steel countertops, the stovetops and sink, but nothing to indicate any sort of use. There isn't a single pot, or utensil, or piece of food in sight.

You shift your feet, moving to get up, but even if a hand from behind didn't push you back down, you doubt that you would've gotten very far anyway.

"Now now, don't get up," a voice says and your blood boils at the sound. The man circles to your front. An artificial worry flashes over his treacherous face, "You're hurt."

You look up, glaring.

 _Of course._

"Tobias."

"Hello, Katherine," he greets, draping his suit jacket onto the other chair, "Last I checked, we weren't finished with our conversation. It's terribly rude to just run away in the middle like that."

There's a fear that grips you, right in your chest, at where you are and how you got here. At _who_ got you here.

You refuse to show it.

"Sorry, I wasn't in the mood to get shot. You'd know," you say, pointing with your eyes.

Tobias stands tall, but it's only been a couple days since Tony shot him, he shouldn't even be on his feet at this point.

Whatever façade he's putting on, you know he's hurting. And something about him being in pain makes you feel marginally better.

But that just also means you, and getting this money, must be high on his priorities.

Anger seeps into his face but he doesn't move.

There's a moment where he just stares at you. Then that stupid smirk of his crawls up his face, slow and intimidating,

"There've been a few developments since we last met. You've been busy."

You bite your bottom lip, partly because of him but mostly because of this throbbing in your side.

"Killing poor, poor innocents."

"I didn't set that bomb."

"Oh, I know."

"Because you did," you assert. Like you'd explained to Elena, Tobias has the most to gain by calling you out to the public.

 _Elena._

Good thing you didn't bring her.

( _"Your little habit of killing everything you touch,"_ you hear Jackson, deep down from your subconscious.)

Or is it, maybe if she came, you could've avoided this? _This_ being that, you've met Tobias again, and this time, it's completely on his terms.

"Give me what I'm owed, and that bomb won't be a problem anymore."

"Why?" you question. "Because I'll be too dead to have any problems?"

You aren't officially part of the more dubious Pierce family _activities_ , but you aren't stupid. Tobias has a reputation, and he's been gunning for you since Port Hill. Since Viktor's death, really.

"So morbid," he comments. You eye him as he leans on the back of the chair, "Why kick someone when they're down?"

"Isn't that all you know?"

Another flash of anger.

You tense.

If he hadn't admitted to needing you to get to Viktor's money, you'd be substantially more fearful of the man standing in front of you. Still, that doesn't mean he won't hurt you. That doesn't mean your heart isn't going to stop every time he makes a sudden move.

You expect him to raise his hand at your crude comment, but he just turns around, restraining himself.

You close your eyes for a moment, leaning your head forward.

Your side _really_ hurts.

"I didn't bring you here to have some petty argument," he says.

When he turns back to you, you've composed yourself.

"If this is some kind of surprise party," you continue, audacious," you aren't doing a very good job."

The logical part of your brain is telling you to _shut up_ ; to stop poking the hive's nest. The other part—that one you tend to listen to, good or bad—that one is certain that in this situation, if he wants you dead, no amount of ass kissing is going to keep you alive.

He frowns at you.

That latter part tells you, you'd rather irritate him with your last breath if it makes his life that much harder.

"This bravado. So sure of yourself. Or perhaps, you actually have a death wish?"

Your lip twitches at his words.

"If I did, I guess that would make you my fairy god mother."

You don't have a death wish. Everything in you wants to claim the justice you deserve and convict this man for all his wrongs. But getting caught is all on you—Freya had warned you, after all—and begging Tobias for your life is the last thing you want to do.

He's already taken your life once—framing and sending you to prison—you aren't going to give him the satisfaction of taking it twice, along with your dignity.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

He chuckles.

"Funny. Come now, Katherine. You must know that this mission to clear your name and blame me? It's futile."

"We'll see about that," you insist, certain. This is your thought—your reasoning, but as you hold up your chin and defiantly, stare him right in the eyes, you feel like your heart is going to explode from your chest at the idea of _death_.

Tobias either doesn't notice, or you are way too good at hiding your fear, because when he speaks, he almost sounds impressed, "We might not be share the same blood, but you truly are a Pierce."

"I take it this is my initiation then?"

He smirks, and persists, "It's futile because I didn't kill my father."

"How convincing."

Amused, he chuckles once more, just as his phone rings.

He pauses, letting it ring in between the silence before picking it up. He stares at it for a moment, presumably reading a text message.

You take the opportunity to look around again.

There's two lit up exit signs to your right across the room, past a few rows of stainless-steel countertops.

You and Tobias are the only people here, but you know better than to think no one else is just around the corner. Where's Markos?

You grip the arm rest and wonder how far you'd get before someone stopped you.

Tobias steps in your line of sight, and pockets his phone, "What are you looking for? I don't recommend trying to escape."

(Speaking of phones, where is yours?)

You glower at him.

He tilts his head, stepping closer, "Besides, you don't look so good. I don't believe you'd get very far."

"I didn't take you for underestimating your enemies."

"Please," he scoffs. "Don't flatter yourself, child. You're so far out of your depth, you don't even realize it."

Out of your depth? How complex did he expect you to assume this entire situation was? He'd murdered his father for his money, and kidnapping you like this demanding said money is proof of his one-track mind.

"Enlighten me then," you challenge, "If you didn't kill Viktor, then who did?"

He only chuckles, dismissing it, "We're here to make a deal, little girl. I know you took it. Return it all to me and everything will go away."

' _Took it?'_

Viktor's money? Someone had _taken_ it? You can't wrap your mind around how someone could've gotten away with stealing billions of dollars right out of the bank. Millions, possible, but _billions_?

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not."

He steps closer and you tense more.

"Where is it, Katherine?"

As he takes another step, you lean into the backrest of your chair, and try as you might, you can't hide the next quaking breath that passes your lips.

"My father's accounts are empty," Tobias speaks, "You're the only one who has access to them."

"And you think a fugitive on the run can just walk up to a bank—"

"We both know you don't need to walk into a bank to get this done."

You shake your head. "Why do you want it so much? You basically own the company. And we all know you have _other_ businesses."

You watch him shirk ever so slightly. It's brief but it's telling. That's it.

On the last public deal Tobias made, before Viktor's murder, he'd botched the entire thing despite how easy it should've been.

"You had some kind of back deal that backfired," you guess, voice raspy as you share your epiphany. It's so obvious now, you should've already known. "And now you need all this money to pay off someone. Viktor knew and he was furious, wasn't he?"

That must have something to do with it because he completely ignores you.

" _Where_ ," he emphasizes, "is it?"

Your lips curl, silent.

"You really do have a death wish," he concludes, coming closer.

"No, I don't," you narrow your eyes, irritated at his repetition, and ready to shoot yourself in the foot, "But you must be deaf, because I already told you; I don't know."

He sighs. You watch as he calmly rolls up his dress shirt sleeves.

"Wait," you say, easily picturing something you've watched endlessly. It mirrors that video; the evidence you'd promised Damon where Tobias had beaten that politician to death with his bare hands. That thought is scarier when it's right in your face. "If I tell you where it is, I get to walk out of here alive."

He shakes his head, "You're not in a position to bargain."

"You said we were here to make a deal."

You don't want to die, but the second you woke up here, you already had a 99% chance of it. That turned into 100% the second you realized you don't even have what he wants.

He only smirks again, and you want nothing more than to wipe it off his face.

"Okay," you concede without his agreement, "The account. The money you want was siphoned into an account in the Caymans."

You pause. You've got his attention.

With a downward gaze, you say the rest with reluctance, "It's under Cainvest International…"

"Go on."

"The account number is…" you bite your lip for a moment, stalling, "…it's 0097…86482236."

"Did you hear that?" Tobias asks suddenly, and you look up to see that he's talking to someone behind you.

Freezing, you turn your head, but you don't have the mobility to look behind you. You're not even tied down, but you can't even turn in your chair.

You close your eyes. ' _Of course, there's people behind me.'_

"Yes, sir," someone replies, and you hear the click of a keyboard.

There's movement. You don't how many people there are but from what you can hear, there's at least two others.

Tobias was right. You wouldn't have gotten very far at all.

You tell them the password and it takes all of 5 minutes for the person on the computer to walk over to Tobias. You don't recognize him.

"Sir." He clicks on a few things and shows Tobias, explaining, "It's a dummy website."

' _Shit.'_

That was too quick. This guy is good.

' _Shit,'_ you repeat in your head.

"It's shutting down the computer," the guy explains.

Your uncle peers at it for a moment before turning the laptop to you.

On it, the screen is completely blue, and in the middle is a single row of text with letters and numbers. In any other situation, you would've laughed at Freya's sense of humour.

"What is it?"

You feel yourself shaking now but you don't reply, surprised that he's trying to figure it out.

"Katherine."

"You really want to know?" you ask, fear crawling up your face, but you laugh. Despite the inevitable, you can't help it. You really are a Pierce. "It says, _Fuck You_."

His expression drops dead cold and you feel heart leap with it.

With speed, he's suddenly closer with his hands on your arm rests forcing you to look up and lean as far away as you can.

You steel your expression.

"I knew you were crass, but I didn't think you were stupid."

Your lips form a thin line, silenced by his proximity.

No matter the words coming out of your mouth, deep down, you recognize the threat of his mere presence. Of this whole situation you're in. You have nothing to bargain with. You're as good as dead.

He glares for a moment, reading something on your face, "You truly have no idea, do you?"

He reaches to the side, slow and intentional. You grab his hand, but from here he has all the advantage. You're too weak to fight back.

"Wasting time. Were you stalling?" he questions as the tips of his fingers meet your bleeding wound.

"Stop," you gasp.

He suddenly grips your side.

You cry out.

"You really think someone was coming to the rescue?" he mocks.

He pushes at it, applying gradual pressure.

You clench your teeth and grab his arm. Nails digging into his skin.

He doesn't even twitch.

Hot, burning _pain_ engulfs your entire body.

It stems from your left as he claws deeper.

Your scream is stuck at the back of your throat.

You push at his chest and he stops, a similar discomfort erupting on his face as his shout rings in your ear.

You blink and your mind supplies once again that he'd been shot recently. _Recently._

You push again.

He shouts, letting go.

You kick him back.

He falls.

Adrenaline coursing through you, you push off the chair, ready to hurt him like he hurt you.

You hear Tobias gasp as when your hand contacts the spot he was shot in.

You try to push him down, but strong arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you back.

You struggle but then hear a voice, yelling, "Stop, Katherine! Stop!"

 _Markos._

Panting, you relax despite yourself.

Whether it was the adrenaline fading or just the rush of oxygen, your vision starts closing in on itself. You control your breath, but it only invites the pain you felt to come rushing back. Your knees feel weak.

"It's okay, you're okay," Markos whispers soothingly. He holds you up, and despite not seeing his face, you hear his concern.

The hacker guy and Dylan are on Tobias, helping him.

You bite your bottom lip, stopping it from quivering at the pain suddenly bombarding you. You're shaking.

"You're okay," Markos repeats. You hold his arm to steady yourself.

Your eyes close, and when they open, you see that Tobias has sat up. He has a hand on his chest, his dark eyes glaring straight at you. It's hard, vicious.

He laughs all of a sudden, startling.

"What did I tell you, girl? You're so out of depth, you have no idea—" he coughs, rough and harsh. The hacker guy passes him a handkerchief and the man wipes his mouth of blood.

He uses the same cloth to wipe blood from his hand. _Your_ blood.

Your expression falters as you blink a few times, turning your gaze from him.

"You want to know who killed Viktor?"

"Sir," Dylan said, making sure his boss stays still. Tobias brushes him off.

"Your mother."

Your expression scrunches together.

"That's right. Amelia, my sister. The one who you believe to be dead? She's alive. Placed in an asylum for the past six years."

' _Liar.'_

"No one knew. But that night. That visit at my father's house? She came with me."

You tense, anger at his ignorant words. Your mother had died. You'd grieved her. There had been a fucking funeral.

"You're lying," you proclaim, and he only laughs again.

He gets up with some help, dusting off his shirt. There's blood on his chest, it's seeped through the white fabric.

"If you don't believe me," he says, so assured, "I do know someone who you will believe."

' _What? No,'_ there's no way. It's impossible. He's _lying_. He has to be.

Your eyes dart around the room, panicked at the thought, because even if you don't believe him—even if you _know_ with full certainty that it can't be true, there's a slim possibly that Tobias isn't full of shit. He's too smug to be.

You swallow your apprehension, but the person that rounds the corner isn't Amelia Pierce.

An old man is ushered in by another, followed by Suresh.

Robero.

You straighten, leaning more against Markos.

"You've been looking for this man, haven't you? Well, here he is. Ask him," Tobias dares, holding out his arm as if presenting the man. "Ask him who was with me that night."

The man in question stands in front of Suresh, his back hunched as he holds his middle. He's in pain. And when he looks to you, he's bruised but not bloody. He'd been beaten, but not recently. Last you'd seen him, across the road at the Marriott Hotel, you could've sworn he was limping. The umbrella.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Katherine."

He'd lured you. Tobias knew you would come. He must've let those surveillance pictures leak for you to find.

"That night Master Viktor was murdered. Mr. Tobias came with your mother. With Ms. Amelia. They were both there that night."

"Don't, Robero," you shake your head. "Don't lie for him."

He looks at you through sad eyes, a sincere apology so heavy you feel it without a single word.

"You don't have to lie for him," you insist.

A ringing cuts through the tension like a knife. You tear your eyes from Robero as you look for the source. Tobias picks up his phone.

"Well well, speak of the devil," he says, holding out the device.

It isn't the same one as before—Wait, had that first phone been yours?

"Amelia!" he greets. "What have you been up to, my dear sister?"

' _No.'_

He pauses, listening to the person on the other end.

"I'm sorry, Katherine," Markos says and you turn your head, waiting for the confirmation. "But it's true. Amelia is alive."

You don't understand this jab that you feel in your chest.

Markos is the last person who'd lie to you.

"You knew," you state.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, and you feel him shaking his head.

Across, you watch as Tobias face goes from cheerfully mocking to seething in anger.

"For your daughter's sake, I hope you've memorized that account number."

Pause.

"Say hi, Katherine," your uncle instructs, putting the phone on speaker and holding it out in front of you.

"— _bias, I swear to god—"_

You could've sworn she said more but, later, when you think back to this moment, you have no idea what she said. All you know is that you haven't heard that sound—that _voice_ , in 6 long years and it stirs something in your chest.

"Mama?" you barely breathe.

Abruptly, the person on the other end stops.

There's silence—and the faint sound of static from the connection.

" _Katherine?"_ you hear and then, the dial tone.

You stare at the phone, wide eyed, before meeting Tobias' gaze. For a split second, he's just as confused as you and then he figures out that the line has been cut.

"She hung up?" he chuckles. "When I said she didn't love you, I was only guessing. Guess I was right."

"That wasn't her," you deny, even as your heart is tells you that it is.

Tobias only grins.

You try to move from Markos' grasp, but he doesn't let you go.

"I admit, Katherine," Tobias begins, "I am the one responsible for your conviction."

You already knew that, but he's finally admitting it to your face.

"That night? My sister killed our father and then left me to pick up the pieces. And how does she repay me? By taking my inheritance!" he seethes for moment, "She should be grateful I prevented her from taking responsibility. Grateful that she didn't go to prison for murder."

He framed you. In this moment, his admittance, as much as you'd desired to catch him red handed, doesn't feel like a victory. Not when your mother is alive—' _No, that could've been anyone_.' But you know—you _know_ , that it can't be anyone else. She had murdered Viktor.

(And she hadn't come out of hiding for you.)

Tobias' laugh breaks through your thoughts.

"I could understand why she did it. My father was a frustrating man. What I can't understand is how all your blame is placed on me, when you know who sealed your fate. This man," Tobias points to Robero. "For lying about your whereabouts. For telling the court that you'd been at the mansion when you weren't. Tell me, niece, I bet you hate him."

Your gaze flickers to the old man in question.

"You must hate him, but you also need him. To clear your name, am I right?"

Your eyes narrow. What is he doing?

 _BANG!_

Tobias holds up a smoking gun, his arm pointed towards Robero as the elder man falls down.

"No," you say, unable to do a thing.

The sound of another two shots ring out and it truly hits you. The only person able to retract his testimony. To tell the truth. To clear your name.

"No!" you shout, struggling in Markos' grasp.

Picking up the fallen man, Suresh and Dylan drag him across the kitchen area.

"Now, now, my dear niece. No need to fret. He's only dead."

There's a freezer on the left that they place Robero in.

"You fucking bastard!" you shout. Your only chance at freedom. Not to mention, that man had been in Viktor's service for a long time. He'd practically raised Tobias himself.

"My dear sister confessed to taking everything," he says, coming close. "You know what that means?"

Tobias reaches out, running a hand down the side of your face and you turn your head.

Markos' grip tightens like he wants to pull you away. He doesn't.

"It means," Tobias leans forward, "I have no more use for you. Markos."

"What?" Markos asks, unclear.

"The freezer," Tobias points with the gun. "Please."

You look up, still you can't see his face, but you feel him tense.

 _He wouldn't._

Your doubt is dashed away when he starts moving towards the door.

"No," you hopelessly struggle, "No, Markos, please."

He doesn't respond to you.

"Don't do this. You don't have to do this."

He gets you to the freezer door without much difficulty, you feel the cold air, and you decide to change tactics.

"Tobias! If that really is my mother," you say, scared. Desperate. "You need me." _As a bargaining chip_.

Tobias shakes his head, "I really don't."

Markos turns you around to face him.

"I'm sorry," is all he says.

You've barely furrowed your brow, disbelieving his words—disbelieving his actions, when he pushes you back.

You stumble, instantly engulfed in cold as you fall back.

You hit something and you lean back, your face scrunched up from the impact of your drop. Your breath feels sharper, the cold stinging your lungs.

When your eyes open, you see that you hadn't fallen on something, rather some _one_ : Robero.

You scramble away, holding your side.

There's a creak, and your attention darts to the door as it swings closed.

"No," you mutter, and if the puffs of breath weren't coming from your mouth, you'd assumed the only reason why you can't hear your heart beating is because it's beating so fast that you no longer hear it.

"No," you repeat, struggling to your feet. You make it to the door, just as it shuts.

From the window, your uncle looks in.

"Tobias!" you shout, pounding on it, but your hands only meet the frozen layer of ice coating the surface. "You can't leave me here!"

"I can, and I will," his voice is muffled, but clear.

"You need me."

"When I said I don't, I wasn't bluffing. If Amelia cares enough about you to trade, there is another who looks just like you, isn't there?"

 _Elena._ "No."

"Goodbye, Katherine."

"No!"

Tobias turns, leaving the window. Markos and the others walk away with him.

"Fuck!" your fist pounds on the door, already too numb to feel anything.

When you turn around you fall to your knees, all your strength leaving. You wrap you arms around yourself as you shake.

Puffs of your breath dissipate as quickly as they come out.

Your side hurts. You're freezing. You're so weak.

You lean on the door, aware of how much colder it feels, and you see Robero once again.

His blood is pooled around him, but he's already frozen.

His eyes wide open.

He's dead.

Just like you.

-x-x-x-

 **A/N: So, the summary for this story is that they should've known better. RIP Katherine, I guess. She should've known better. smh.**


	25. If You Could

**Chapter Twenty-Five:** _ **If You Could**_

 **A/N: Well well well. I'm late but here we are. You guys are awesome. Now let's see where this goes.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Perspective: Elena**

-x-x-x-

" _The hardest part is when you can't do anything about it. When you know you want to, and you know you would, if you could."_

 _-JP_

You freeze.

"Elena Gilbert!"

He pulls out his weapon, pointing it to you.

"Stay right where you are!"

You stare at the barrel of a gun, stuck to your spot, because even if you wanted to, you probably wouldn't have moved.

Jenna turns around, shifting in between you and the man.

"Wait," she says, fearful, holding up her hands. "Don't shoot."

For a split-second, time slows as you're reminded how many times you've stared at the end of a gun. Mervins at Port Hill, Sierra at the scrap yard, Markos at Katherine's house, Tobias' men at the lake house; after all of these, you'd think that by now your heart wouldn't leap so high you literally choke at your own words.

What was a cop doing in Jenna's house?

"Oh, for goodness sakes."

You're still frozen when a familiar voice sounds, reprimanding, as he steps from behind the first man.

"Don't scare the poor women, Klaus."

You're completely baffled and yet _relieved_ to see Kol.

He grins at you, "It's a wonder how everyone thinks _I'm_ the immature one."

"Kol?"

"Elena," he greets with a grin.

You blink, your confusion easily replaced by your reasoning. What was he doing, not only in your hometown, but in your aunt's house?

The other man, Klaus, drops the hand holding his weapon along with the stern expression. If you weren't so bewildered, you'd see that he looks almost annoyed at the interruption.

"Why are you here?" you question, gaging the situation. They'd gotten into Jenna's house before you even appeared, and there was no way she hadn't known that they were here.

"Looking for some answers," Kol says.

Jenna had invited them in.

"Answers?"

"Hold on, who are you people?" your aunt demands, probably realizing that their first introduction, to get into the door, was most likely a lie. "You two said you were from the penitentiary. Port Hill."

"Well, technically, I said we were from out of town," Kol points out.

"We're friends," Klaus interjects, "just looking for our lost friends."

"Friends?" you repeat, incredulous. You barely know Kol, let alone this Klaus guy.

"Yes, but it seems your other half is missing," the man replies, glancing between you and Jenna. "Where is Katherine?"

Jenna's head snaps to you, perplexed. The last time you'd spoken to her, you'd admitting to knowing about your twin. Nothing about actually meeting her.

"If you're looking for Katherine, why would you be at _my_ hometown, talking to _my_ aunt."

Klaus chuckles a little.

"Last you met my brother here," Klaus pats Kol on the shoulder. He's shrugged off.

Brother? Now that you think about it, they do look like siblings, and if you had to guess, Klaus looks older than Kol, but probably not by much.

' _Is this the guy who left us at the crash?'_

"You've been to our lake house, correct?" Klaus continues, "Tell me, love, when you first arrived there, our good friend Tony was still alive, wasn't he?"

Your shoulders drop at that.

You hadn't forgotten about the lake house groundskeeper, but he'd been pushed to the back of your mind since running from that place. A _lot_ of things had happened since then.

"I know," you shake your head, genuinely saying, "Shit, Kol. I'm so sorry."

Kol only looks at you as if gauging your sincerity.

"So, where's Katherine?" Klaus repeats.

"Why would she—" _know_?Jenna pauses, deciding to wait for your answer instead, but your focus is on Klaus' hand. He hasn't put his weapon away.

You eye it for a moment, shaking your head. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" he doesn't sound like he believes you. Simultaneously, Kol's face lights up in surprise by this, "You took my advice?"

Advice? Did he mean when he'd told you that you had better things to do than stick with Katherine and help her with Viktor? When he questioned why Katherine would choose to save you over her long-time friend? When he'd essentially told you not to trust her just as he assisted her all the same?

"Not exactly…" you trail off a little.

But in the end, that's exactly what you ended up doing, isn't it? Take his advice.

Kol had been the one to warn you that Katherine didn't " _stick her neck out for others_." That there's a reason she'd been keeping you around; and he'd been right. It just took you finding out what it was to decide to finally focus on your own problems.

Klaus frowns. "Care to explain how Tobias found you girls?"

Jenna looks to you, her confusion still marring her face as you shake your head.

"I don't know," you admit again, and you know that even Katherine doesn't. "We'd gone to the city that day, and when we came back, he was waiting for us."

Kol nods, sharing a look with his brother.

"You seem not to know a lot of things," Klaus comments.

"Because I don't? If you want clearer answers, I'm sure Katherine can help you out better than I can. And you still haven't answered my question. Why are you guys here?" How does talking to Jenna answer anything about Tony?

Klaus looks to Kol and the latter pouts like he's shrugging.

"Alright," Kol begins, answering your first question, "well, our father tasked us to do some research before taking you and Katherine to him."

"Uh," you balk at the thought of being brought somewhere unwillingly. "Brought to him?"

"Yes," Klaus smiles like he's laughing. But not in a what-he's-saying-is-a-joke laughing, more like he's wildly amused at your alarm. "He'd like to know how one of his most trusted men died on his own property."

You break eye contact.

"We weren't entirely sure you'd be here," Kol speaks, "but now that you are, we ask that you come with us."

"Now, wait. You can't just take her with you," Jenna interrupts suddenly, probably still confused. You appreciate her protectiveness, but it's not entirely necessary. You don't imagine you'll be able to get out of going to see the Mikaelson patriarch—not when you're partially responsible for what happened at the lake house—despite how concerning it is that he just wants to "talk."

Katherine would know what to do.

"No, Jenna. It's okay." _Is it, though?_ "I don't actually have a choice, do I?"

"No, love. But do find comfort in knowing that we don't always ask first," Klaus smirks.

Kol tilts his head from each side, agreeing.

"Come on."

"Now?" you question, "Wait, not now."

Klaus tilts his head.

"Please. I just got here. And I really need to speak with my aunt." You bargain now, "Give me a day,"

"I don't think so."

"Please, I can't—" you look to the Mikaelson you know more.

From what you can tell, the Pierces are a public known wealthy family, dabbling in questionable business practices behind their well-known brand. The Mikaelsons on the other hand, seem more covert. Tobias already scares you; you can only imagine what their father, Mikael, is like.

"Kol, you told me I had better things to do than help Katherine. That's what I'm doing. Trying to clear my name. I swear if you give me some time, I'll go to wherever your father wants me to go, but not right now."

If you have no choice about meeting their father, the best you can do is try to accomplish what you came all the way back home to do.

"You know who our father is, don't you?" Klaus asks almost threateningly.

You nod, "Yes, and I've met Tobias. I bet your father's worst."

"You're absolutely correct," the older Mikaelson grins, chuckling. He narrows his eyes, but his gaze turns to Kol.

"Your call, brother."

Kol raises a brow. "Father told us to bring them both, but we don't have _both_."

"Precisely," Klaus mischievously smirks. "Besides, I'll know who to blame if father finds out she was here, and we didn't take her."

Kol shrugs like he's accepting the challenge.

You narrow your eyes at the exchange.

Jenna glances at you.

Finally placing the gun back in his holster, Klaus bows his head in a mock show of chivalry, "Well, it was nice to meet you ladies, but I must be off. Ms. Sommers. Elena."

He turns around, showing himself out, but Kol stays in his spot.

"What just happened?" you ask, wanting a clarification on whatever they had agreed to.

Kol laughs, "Don't worry about it."

"No offence, but I don't know you, so I don't exactly trust you."

"And I don't know you either. We're both taking a leap of faith here, darling. You may feel like you're putting your life on the line, but I am as well. My father is not a very forgiving man."

"I don't like the sound of this, Elena," Jenna holds your arm as if she would be able to successfully get both you and her out of there without Kol stopping you.

"Like it or not, she doesn't have any choice."

Like it or not? True, but if what he's saying about Mikael is so true then he didn't need to stick his neck out for you.

"You and your brother could've hauled my ass out of here kicking and screaming."

He smiles foe a moment.

"Now, where's the fun in that?" he asks, and you think he's genuinely just doing this for that: fun.

With a frown, you don't have to ask to figure that whatever unspoken deal he and Klaus had, Kol's part was to make sure you made it to wherever their father will be with Katherine in tow, and that meant staying with you till you got there.

You sigh. "Can I at least get a second with my aunt?"

Kol's brows lift, "Ah, right. But before that, about Katherine. Where did you separate?"

You stare at him for a moment, gaging whether you should tell them about the cabin. Katherine had said a lot of people knew about that place, but that didn't necessarily mean it involved the Mikaelsons. Unlikely as that seems.

"One of the Pierce properties," you say. "But she's not there anymore. She left before I did, and last I checked she hasn't answered my text."

Kol nods, "Check again."

With an almost eyeroll, you pull out your phone. If this'll make him leave, then okay.

When you get to the messages you feel a sudden drop in your stomach that you can't explain when you see that Katherine hasn't responded at all.

Odd.

Not that you _expect_ her to get back to you right away, but it's been hours since you left the cabin. She's probably busy talking to Robero and convincing the man to come clean—but it does only take a second to shoot back a message. Maybe she doesn't know what to say—though that's highly unlikely, given that this _is_ Katherine you're talking about. Well, to be fair, you've noticed that apologies aren't exactly her strong suit.

You move from the rambling thought.

"Nothing," you say, showing Kol the texts.

The only things on it are her, _"Have a lead on Robero, don't wait up,"_ and your, _"Hey, where are you?"_ message that you'd sent this morning.

Contemplatively, he takes the phone before giving it back.

"Alright, I'll be right back," he says, taking out his own phone and walking out of the kitchen.

"What is going on, Elena?" Jenna voices and your attention snaps to her.

"It's…" Geez, you're already tired. Being in Mystic Falls alone is wearying, now having to contend with the Mikaelsons? You've barely been here an hour and you're already drained.

"Oh my god," Jenna comes closer, apparently having finally had a good look at you. Her hand is on your face as she peers at the stitches on your head with concern, "How did you get these?"

The last time you'd seen her, you also hadn't looked your best, but apparently that's inevitable.

"There was a crash," you say without elaborating. "I'm fine. What did they want?"

Jenna only blinks, taking that as a sign to let it go, and she glances to where Kol left through. "They were asking about you: How you escaped, if I was hiding you—How are you here?"

"It's kind of a long explanation, actually. I didn't… exactly escape."

She pauses for a second. "That time I visited you... Katherine…"

"Yeah, like you guessed, I already knew her. But only because she turned out to be my cellmate."

"Your cellmate?" Her jaw might as well have dropped to her feet. "And these men are…?"

"Friends of hers," you say, knowing that that's not entirely accurate.

"Friends…? So, the news is true?"

"What?"

"That bombing—at that motel in Maryland? What they're saying…"

"No, that isn't true," you shake your head at her look. That entire thing was more complicated than just skewed information. "The bomb was real, but I was there. We didn't do that. Katherine didn't do that. It was… it's difficult to explain, but I can tell you she isn't the one responsible."

"What the hell," she mutters, astonishment.

Maybe it's just you, but as genuinely surprised as she sounds, you can't help feeling a little closed off.

"You didn't know Katherine was at Port Hill?" you question, boldly dismissing her surprise.

"No," she balks, "Why would you think that?"

You watch her, but unlike Katherine, you've known Jenna all your life. She's never been a liar, but she's kept the knowledge about John being your father a secret for just as long, so what the hell do you even know anymore?

"Viktor Pierce's death was very public," you say.

Katherine had been adopted by the Pierces, and Jenna had been at the hospital, there's no way she doesn't know about them. And there's no way she didn't see the news and tabloids when the murder occurred.

"Viktor Pierce…" she puts it together in a second, her shock only adding to her mounting surprise. "That can't be… That's too much of a coincidence."

That's what you'd said when the entirety of Block D first mistook you for your counterpart. And though you've never believed in fate, how the hell do you explain the last year of your life?

"Well, it's true," you affirm, toning down your accusatory tone. You wanted to see if Jenna would lie to your face, but her reaction is too clear to be fake.

There's a pause before she asks, "Did she do it?"

You had your doubts, but despite Katherine's lies—or maybe because of them—deep down, you know she's innocent too. Katherine may be a liar, but you can still discern that a murderer she is not.

"No. But talking about Katherine isn't why I came here."

You'd come to tell her about Jeremy.

You're innocent and someone else other than you can corroborate that fact. You want nothing more than to tell her the right now, but you'd also come because of John. Speaking about your late brother makes you feel vulnerable, and you don't want to be feeling that way once you ask Jenna how she and your parents kept your parentage a secret for all this time.

"Jenna, I need you to tell me the truth."

"About what?"

"John," you see her flinch at his name, reading the rest of your thought. "He's my father?"

"How did you… How did you find out?"

"Does it matter?" you say, somehow nervous about the reality you already know.

"I guess not." She sighs, "Yes, he is."

"Why did no one tell me?"

She shakes her head, apologetic, "I never knew till you were ten. I don't think Miranda ever meant to tell me, but when I found out, she asked me not to tell you."

The Gilbert family's best kept secret it seems, because not even this small town knew it. You would've heard about it otherwise.

"Why not?"

"Would you have wanted to know, Elena? John isn't a good man. I may not like Greyson but he's definitely the lesser of two evils."

You can't dispute that.

"Why don't we sit down?" she suggests as she glances to where Kol has yet to come back from.

You sigh and Jenna leads you to the dining table.

"You promised me answers," you say, referring to her Port Hill visit.

"I did."

"And I definitely have questions."

She nods, "Ask away."

What else? John, the secret they've all kept, and… "Ilia. You know her? Met her, even?"

"Yes. The first time I met her was at the hospital," she starts without hesitation, "I'd been visiting your mother and Greyson then. They'd only been married a year. During my visit, Ilia had gone into labour. I always thought she was one of Miranda's college friends or something. I never put it together that maybe your parents were willing to adopt a child so young because you were Greyson's niece."

 _Niece._ Even if you'd never really felt like his _daughter_ it doesn't feel right affirming that you're actually his niece.

"I never put it together because John wasn't there when you were born."

"Where was he?"

"At that point he was just my brother-in-law's brother. But he was 16, and in rehab."

He and Jenna are the same age.

"Later on, when I found out, Miranda told me you and Katherine were both set to be given away. A woman named Amelia Pierce took Katherine. You were going to be adopted too, but the people who were supposed to come backed out last minute... That's why Greyson and Miranda took you in. It was intended to be temporary. Your parents weren't even finished their undergrad yet, and your mother stayed home to take care of you."

"She dropped out of medical school because of me."

University was where Miranda met Greyson. They'd had the same major and if it wasn't for you, she'd be just as qualified a physician as your father. You always knew some part of her resented you for that.

"And then Jeremy was also born."

"And they just kept me…" you scoff, bitter.

If they never wanted you, why keep you? You could've gone to a good home, a better one. You picture Katherine's house, the way you saw it on top of that tree. The lush green grass, the nice pool, the beautiful house, the stone deck, the—But then you see Tobias standing over a bloody Tony at the lake house.

What was that saying? _Better the devil you know._

You shake away the thoughts.

"Do you know anything else about Ilia?"

Jenna's face scrunches together as she thinks, "I'd only met her twice. Met her younger sister far more, to be honest. Danielle, or—"

"Isobel."

You see her recognition.

"Yes. I'm almost scared to ask how you know," she laughs nervously. "Katherine?"

"Not exactly. Isobel was actually… also at Port Hill."

"What?" Jenna's brows lower, her tone coming up confused, almost offended, "For what?"

You unconsciously mirror her expression. She knew Isobel more than she knew Ilia and yet the woman going to jail is perplexing for her. Had she even met the woman? Were you talking about the same person?

You didn't spend as much time with Isobel as Katherine did, but she radiated lies and narcissistic calculation when you did.

No way could Isobel have learnt to be _that_ cunning and _that_ manipulative only in the latter, more recent part of her life. Both of those traits are learnt behaviours, something she would've been honing during her earlier teenage years when Jenna knew her.

"What do you mean 'what'?"

"What did she go to prison for?"

You think, actually unsure. You always assumed Isobel had done something worst than you… though, you can't remember if anyone ever told you what it was. No, you never found out.

Jenna takes your silence as an answer and explains her thought. "When your mother and father got married, Miranda spent a lot of time in Greyson's hometown in California, since their university was also there. She knew both Ilia and Isobel, and she always told me how much she preferred Isobel over Ilia."

Ilia was somehow worst than Isobel? How is that even possible?

You scoff, thinking you probably should've seen this coming. " _Talk about a family trait."_ Penny had once ignorantly said about you and Katherine, but the more you find out about your biological parents the more you're inclined to think she was right.

But then again, how much do you trust Miranda's judgement?

Jenna shakes her head, "From what I know, I would agree with her. But I'm sorry, Elena. if you want a clearer answer, I think you know who you have to talk to."

You nod, already mentally accepting the inevitable.

"Your parents."

"I've got to clear my name first," you say, finally knowing where to start.

"How are you going to do that?"

You take a deep breath in preparation for your good news— "Elena."

Kol comes back with his phone in his hand.

You just about roll your eyes when you see that he has a weird look on his face.

"You need to see this," he says, serious.

You share a look with Jenna as Kol sits on your right.

He places his phone horizontally in front of you and you raise a brow at him with curiosity. He nods down to it, urging.

The screen is a blur at first but then, Kol taps it to play the video and you have to blink a few times to process what you see.

It's blurry at first, because whatever is recording is being moved around. It stops to show a man, typing with one hand at the bottom of the screen, and you conclude that you're looking through a laptop camera.

Another man, someone you recognize, comes into view and you tense as he looks straight at the camera before dropping his gaze to the screen.

That's—

The screen turns again and this time your confusion drops as your hand grips Kol's arm.

"What is this?" you demand just as an out-of-frame Tobias echoes the same sentiment in the video.

Kol pauses the video and you glare at the screen as a familiar feeling settles atop your chest.

Fear.

"My sister, Freya, retrieved this upload from one of her cloud data files. She told me it was connected to some false bank account program she made."

Jenna gets up, moving to also have a look.

"Katherine…" you barely mutter.

Jenna gasps as she sees.

On the screen is your twin. She sits in a chair, her glare deadly. Blood from the corners of her mouth; blood on her fingers as she grips the arm rest; and blood, you'd guess from the way she's holding her side, from her stab wound.

"What… what is this?"

"Just watch it," Kol instructs.

" _You really want to know? It says, 'Fuck you'."_ Katherine says boldly.

The laptop shifts as a figure, Tobias, stalks towards her. The view is suddenly on a weird angle, and you can only see the top of Tobias' head as he stoops down. Words are exchanged, Katherine screams, there's a scuffle, and then shouts as the laptop is dropped. Despite that it keeps recording. It must've fallen on something because the view is now tilted to the right. The people you want to be paying attention to aren't in the center, but even then, you can make out Tobias on the ground and Markos holding Katherine up.

"Where—" you start, standing.

You're interrupted by Kol. "Sit down, just watch."

"Why? Where is this? How—Wait. You've seen this already."

He nods back down to the seat, "Are you going to sit, because I'd prefer not to explain it myself."

Where this video is going, you don't want to sit back down. Katherine is out there; out there with the very man who's been searching for her with ill intentions. How are you supposed to just sit?

"Where is she?"

"Alright." Kol shakes his head, pressing play and then skipping ahead.

To your horror, the rest of the scene plays out in quick forwarded succession.

Someone is shot.

Then even if most of it is in the bottom corner, you see Tobias approach Katherine and Markos before the latter drags her, kicking and screaming, to a door that's barely in frame in the background.

"That's—"

"A freezer," Kol finishes.

"My god," Jenna mutters, perturbed.

"What the fuck are we still doing here?" you demand.

 _Why hadn't he come running in here demanding you leave at once?!_

"Look at the top corner," Kol instructs, solemn almost.

Your eyes snap to the clock on the wall of Jenna's kitchen. No.

"That… that can't be right."

"I can promise you; it is."

"It's been 9 hours? There's no way she could've—" you cut yourself off this time, unable to say it.

"Survived?" Kol supplies and you glare.

Hadn't you just been thinking of losing Katherine to her lies? This isn't what you meant when you said that.

No.

 _No._

' _There's no way.'_

"You're telling me it's been 9 fucking hours since this video? Since they left her in there?!"

The video had continued with Tobias leaving and his men cleaning up whatever mess they caused, before the same henchman from before picked up the laptop with a stare at the screen before shutting it close.

The recording ends there.

"Where is this?!" you demand once more. He hadn't answered the first time.

"Freya told me it was in the city. Richmond. She doesn't have an approximate location, but she's sent—"

You blink as his voice is drowned out by your head exploding.

How?

What?

This _can't_ be real.

There's a buzz in your pocket.

It startles you for a moment.

When you open it, your heart stops.

Just below your text bubble asking where she is, is a reply.

" _Elena?_ " it reads, " _I need your help._ "


End file.
